Name: Your Primarch's name.

Gender: Male or female. This will also reflect the gender of your Legion, as discussed below.

Homeworld: The planet your Primarch was sent to via the Warp. Include its name, the biome or biomes present on it (particularly where the Primarch landed and/or was raised), the degree of hostility the world exhibits, and the sort of challenges the average inhabitant might have to face on the planet.

Appearance: What your Primarch looks like, both with and without their power armour. This can be described in text, or displayed in an image if you can actually find one that's appropriate for the purpose. Keep in mind that this will, for the most part, be reflected in your Legion. Also note that most Space Marines are a good eight feet or so in height, and Primarchs are almost without fail taller still, though generally proportionate compared to humans where their Legionaries are more akin to slabs of muscle and bone; the consensus seems to be that their average height is eleven feet or so, though significantly taller or shorter is not unreasonable.

Personality: Your Primarch's character traits, their positives and negatives, their highs and lows, where they excel and what their flaws are. Remember: the Primarchs are human, and yet far beyond humanity, capable of far more intensity than any mere mortal in all of their emotions. In other words, they're almost literally larger than life, and should be portrayed as such.

Skills: Does your Primarch possess any particular skills or abilities beyond what is normal for a superhuman warrior of their caliber? Do they excel in a particular field of war - stealth strikes, armoured assaults, siege warfare? Are there any mutations they possess that grant them particular traits, such as enhanced senses even compared to their brethren? You have plenty of options here, though even for the children of the Emperor, there are limits to plausibility, e.g. excessive mutation.

Assignment Grade: All Primarchs have a large presence in the Warp, courtesy of being the Emperor's children, and some can manipulate their power in the form of psychic abilities, to a lesser or greater extent. To that end, please include your Primarch's Assignment level in this section, and some examples of what they can do if anything particular. Sigma-grade and below indicates negative psionic potential, an impossibility for a Primarch given their heritage, and in practice they will likely possess at least an unconscious degree of psychic ability.

Biography: The story of your Primarch's life, both before and after being picked up by the Emperor and his Grim Crusade. What did they do with themselves whilst on their home planet? When did they get picked up by the Crusade? What battles have they lead since then?

The Meeting: For this section, you’ll RP out how your Primarch met up with the Emperor, and the events surrounding that. The Meeting should be written as though it were a proper RP post, and as such at least two or three high-quality paragraphs should be put to paper. Please do not write from the Emperor's perspective at any point - though, given that he presents himself more or less however the beholder wishes to view him, you may retain the freedom to characterise him as you feel is most appropriate for the situation.

Legion Name: The Legion's name. This can be its original name as described by the Emperor, or a name given to it by its Primarch after their recovery by the Imperium; if it's the latter, please also mention what its original name was.

Legion Number: The Legion's number, in Roman numerals up to twenty (I, II, III, IV, and so on up to XX). Obviously, only one Legion per number, on a first come first served basis.

Legion Strength: How many members the Legion possesses. This can be anywhere from "merely" several thousand Astartes, to substantially greater than one hundred thousand units, and will determine the overall strength of the Legion in terms of sheer brute force, though how skilled its members are are is another matter entirely.

Armour Appearance: What the rank and file of the Legion wear as their armour. This website or this application may help you form an image of your Legion. To acquire an image from the site, open the completed suit in a new tab, save that image to your computer, then upload it to a hosting site like Imgur, open the result in a new tab, and use the URL from that page as your image; for the application, this guide will serve you well. You may also want to find an appropriate symbol to represent them, but written descriptions are also acceptable. Just keep in mind that this game is based in a time period just before canon's Horus Heresy, and thus only power armour up to Mark IV, Maximus Pattern, is currently in circulation as of the game's beginning; it is likely that your Legion will possess a combination of Mark II Crusade and Mark IV Maximus suits, plus a certain number of Mark III Iron suits for specialised operations, with the renowned Mark I Thunder armour being a rather rare sight for many reasons.

Warcry: What members of the Legion yell when going into battle, e.g. "Courage And Honour!", "Repent! For tomorrow you die!" A Legion may possess more than one warcry.

Dramatis Personae: A list of important figures and groups in the Legion's ranks other than the Primarch, Space Marine or otherwise. Maybe they're high-ranking officers in the Legion, maybe they're close friends the Primarch made before the Emperor rediscovered them, or maybe they're faithful soldiers of the Primarch who continue to serve him graciously.

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role: The favoured tactics, strategies, and position of the Legion - how they prefer to engage their foes, essentially. Does your Legion charge head-on into the fray? Does it hang back and lure opponents toward their positions? Do its members prefer to sneak round an enemies flanks to crush them in a pincer motion? Similarly, are they most comfortable in melee, close range, or long range? Do they utilise vehicles or orbital bombardment heavily?

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: The manner in which the Legion acts outside of battle, as imposed upon them by the Imperium itself, the geneseed of their Primarch, and their Primarch's direct actions and directives. Maybe they're a highly progressive group, or maybe they're extremely traditional. Do they take any cues or inspiration from animals, or from real-world civilisations such as the Romans or Vikings? Do they act like the angels they're often mistaken for, or are they of a more devilish attitude?

Relationships: How does the Legion interact with other groups in the galaxy, such as other arms of the Imperium and fellow Astartes Legions? Are they on good terms with the Imperial Army, or perhaps they have a rivalry with another Legion, friendly or otherwise? Have any particular xeno races drawn their ire previously? To wit, the only major xeno races presently in the galaxy are the Orks and the splintered groups of Eldar, though countless other civilisations exist that pose just as much threat to the Imperium as these more well-known aliens. The Legion may also be aware of Warp-spawned threats, though if you’d like to have some connection to them, I’d recommend discussing it with a GM first.

Legion Name: The Brotherhood

Legion Number: III

Legion Strength: ~200,000 with great fluctuations, but overall a gradual increase in size.

Armour Appearance: The vast majority of the Legion is equipped with the modern Mk3 power armour, leaving it entirely unpainted; both of these things are influenced by a desire for the Legion to be easier to supply.

Warcry: There isn't any one singular warcry for the Legion, every single Marine slinging their own oaths at the top of their lungs towards friend and foe alike. Usually this results in a grand cacophony in which no words can be made out on account of your ears bleeding.

Dramatis Personae: Though the culture of the Legion makes sure it has great casualties and thus a far smaller percent of true veterans. That said, the fact it has the absolutely largest size of all other Legions has insured that in absolute terms it still has one of the largest officer corps of them all, the vast majority of which has Apothecary training. Some of them may be listed below:

Brother Cyrus Kelmorian: One of the few old Marines of the Legion to stay of the Primarch's favour, Cyrus is the Chief Apothecary of the entire Legion supervising the training, promotion, and development of Apothecaries. He had been performing his little surgical experiments since he first became a Marine long before the Primarch's discovery. However in Anaximander he found the perfect leader to sponsor his trade, the two forming a very beneficial relationship. While Cyrus makes all sorts of augments to the Marines of the Brotherhood, Anaximander makes sure that any who discover this when they should not come to a rather unfortunate end.

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role: Thanks to the programme of sending Chaplains to other Legions, along with the very variable origin of recruits there is a healthy diversity of skillsets within the Legion, allowing it to adapt to any battlefield scenario. However, the Legion's strength relies in the fact it has the best replacement and even growth rate and it is conscious of this fact when considering strategy. As such they have absolutely no fear of undertaking actions which will have massive casualty rates knowing they will soon be replenished. Never will they wait out a siege on the defence or offence, always sallying forth from (if they believe they can win, of course) or storming heavily defended positions. The Brotherhood is also a Legion that it has unrivaled logistics, especially given its size. It has had to make some sacrifices in tactical flexibility with noteworthy things like almost no missile launchers, assault cannons or autocannons being in their armoury to all be replaced with lascannons and other heavy arms. Likewise their armour is almost entirely Mk3, with very little in the way of other variants and indeed, in spite of the Legion's great size their quantity of sets of terminator armour is just about average, as well being uniformly Cataphractii pattern. This however insures that the Legion always has its equipment in pristine condition, no Marine ever has to be sparing with ammunition (though they will often nevertheless be) and that a large if not very diverse amount of vehicles and heavy weapons can be fielded by the Legion. There are almost no true power weapons in the Legion, the majority of the ones in their armour being the ones they forged themselves. But from the Mechanicus, they instead requisitioned a rather large amount of easier to maintain and acquire in large number Eviscerator blades. Indeed, an eviscerator blade is given to the highest of Veterans who finally managed to gain notice of the Primarch as more than just background. The final thing of note is that the Legion believes it is eternally at war, with several implications. First, most worlds it brings to compliance will get at the very least a token garrison of the Brotherhood, helping it in recruitment and training as well as being a reserve force for when the casualties get high even by their Primarch's standards. At the same time, the Legion absolutely never rests. It is always fighting, any time a warrior is not fighting he is preparing to fight, there is no rest (albeit some things like prayer or forging count as preparation for battle). The smoke from the bolters of the Brotherhood will not yet have blown away after a world is made compliant before they already march off to new battlegrounds. As a final note, the Legion has an extraordinary amount of Apothecaries which helps drastically reduce the attrition the Brothers naturally face. Oftentimes Sergeants, Techmarines, Chaplains, Librarians and other subcommanders will be given a narthecium and Apothecary training to even further increase the preservation of hurt Marines, and such similar cross-pollination of skills will happen for other roles too though it is not seen as being equally prestigious. These Apothecaries have come to begin experimenting with augments on their fellow Marines with no consideration of if this was sanctioned or not, and many Marines of the Brotherhood have begun entering battle with strange new abilities.

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: The Legion's present is almost entirely dictated by the nature of the Primarch. They are practical almost to a fault, the tradition of going into battle without a helmet not existing for them, and indeed their armour will rarely come off even in civilian contexts. Their sentences are short and to the point, although it would be a great mistake to assume they were poor with rhetoric. Any Marine of the Legion that manages to survive their first compliance will leave the conflict a great speaker in anticipation of eventually being left as a garrison and trainer. There is a sort of contrast of internal arrogance with public humility in the Legion. The Brotherhood sees other Legions as almost stupidly ostentatious, as backwards and inefficient. At the same time they will never rise to insults and taunts by other Legions, while in the (rather rare) joint operations with other Legions they will make sure to defer any and all honours to the other Legion. There is a very strong culture of self sacrifice and improvement within the Legion. While their cold practicality means they won't do obnoxious displays of penance for failures, they form diagnostic meetings to make sure whatever failure happened will never repeat again. For this reason the Legion has developed a rather unique Apothecary subculture. Its Apothecarion has come to experiment on humans and Astartes alike, making subtle improvements here and there. Indeed the vast majority of the Legion's veterans have Apothecary training if not actually being dedicated Apothecaries, their position becoming sort of the Legion's elite caste. There is also a notable element of secrecy to the Legion. There is much they do that they know other forces in the Imperium would drastically disapprove of, and in efforts of diplomacy they do not want this information to get out. This is partially why they have begun their Chaplain program, wherein veteran Chaplains of the Legion are sent out to other expeditionary fleets to both acquire knowledge and experience from other Legions but also to to spread the way of thinking of the Brotherhood to those susceptible to it, as well as attempt to paint a transparent image of the Brothers to all. But all of this stems from one central fact of their nature; they believe the Emperor - the Primarch's father - is a God. This peculiar belief has guided all of their actions since the time of the Primarch's discovery. The garrisons left on worlds are just as important in defence and recruitment purposes as they are for spreading the new faith of Anaximander's creation. The secrecy of the Legion in what it does is for a large part aimed to make sure the detractors of the Legion do not manage to use this against them. The Primarch has thoroughly indoctrinated the whole of his Legion save just a few of the veterans from before his discovery. The Chaplain exchange program is also related to this, the Chaplains sent to other Legions slowly spreading this religiosity across other expeditionary fleets.

Relationships:

Remembrancers - The Brotherhood have a rather odd relationship with them. They encouraged their presence in the Legion, eagerly giving them interviews and a look into newly compliant worlds. At the same time, they are heavily restricted in what questions they are allowed to ask, and are never let outside of their quarters. They do not have an actual image of what the Astartes do, they cannot see the battlefields whilst war still rains on them and they are thus unable to really be any more than propagandists for the Brothers. There has been as of late a slight shift, as enough time has passed for some remembrancers to be indoctrinated into the newborn Imperial cult. These ones get full privileges to do as they please in the fleets, provided they act in the best interests of the Primarch and the faith.

Orators - Orators have been treated even more harshly by the Legion than Remembrancers until some time ago when the Primarch was able to convert those following his fleet to effectively be Preachers.

The Mechanicum - as worshipers of the Emperor (even if not "proper" ones) of a highly pragmatic nature the Primarch has been able to find a common language with them after some time. The endless guzzling of arms, armour, and ammunition has only been possible thanks to an agreement with the Fabricator General and many Archmagi. Many great gifts will be made to the Machine Cult for in truth the Primarch has no use for much of the strange things he finds across the galaxy. At the same time, the Brotherhood is trying to find Archmagi who are of a less Neo-Luddite persuasion for the current ideology of the Mechanicum is quite contrary to the culture of constant self improvement that the Marines have.

Other Legions - The Brotherhood maintains friendly if not strong relations with all other Legions. After joint operations they will make sure all honours go to the other Astartes, and in rare displays of ostentation they will make elaborate ceremonies and gifts in honour of their cousins. Furthermore, Veteran Chaplains will be sent out to other Legions to both advise, and learn from them as well as gradually indoctrinate members of their fleet in the faith.

Talons of the Emperor - The Legion does not have a particularly good relationship with the Custodes and Sisters of Silence. There is no concrete point of conflict that they have had, but they do not simply interact will with one another, perhaps ironically given the coldness of both parties.

Imperial Army - The Brotherhood has a mixed relationship with the Imperial Army, largely dependent on if they are able to successfully convert it any attached mortal forces or not. If a commander and his troops can be converted then they will be a valued addition to the forces of the Brotherhood, often receiving further training and great honours from the Astartes. If it is impossible to do so, then they will treat the mortal auxiliaries as trash to be expended as fast as possible. They won't bother to respond to calls for aid from them, and will even find excuses to dip into their supplies be they lascannon charges or promethium tanks.

Name: Anaximander Kha Naathir

Gender: Male

Homeworld: The planet your Primarch was sent to via the Warp. Include its name, the biome or biomes present on it (particularly where the Primarch landed and/or was raised), the degree of hostility the world exhibits, and the sort of challenges the average inhabitant might have to face on the planet.

Appearance: Anaximander's appearance is a matter of debate. It is known he is large even in contrast to other Primarchs, arguably the largest though it was never measured. Beyond that, his experience is somewhat of an enigma to all save the Emperor. He is always in his armour, the few cases where has has removed his helmet or battle suit as a whole he will have his clothing so perfectly done that naught can be discerned save for a feint reflection confirming that yes, he does need have two eyes. What colour is his skin, his hair, his eyes? What is his face's shape, what is his bodily appearance? Nobody save the Emperor know. Rumours say it is to hide hideous mutation though the credence to this is doubtful. More likely it is an effort to hide a perfect visage lest his unnatural perfection distract from his holy word.

Personality: Your Primarch's character traits, their positives and negatives, their highs and lows, where they excel and what their flaws are. Remember: the Primarchs are human, and yet far beyond humanity, capable of far more intensity than any mere mortal in all of their emotions. In other words, they're almost literally larger than life, and should be portrayed as such.

Skills: The Primarch for one is particularly large even for one of his kind, with the consequent bodily power.

Assignment Grade: ~Alpha. It is important to note however, that the majority of Anaximander's power is in his control of people, his control of the physical largely limited to the use of his rather unique weapon and armour to an impressive degree, otherwise he is naught more than a Librarian. He can quite literally control the minds of others, or subtly influence them. In the battlefield oftentimes hundreds of the Brotherhood's Astartes will be directly controlled by Anaximander, fighting with the skill if not quite the strength and speed of the Primarch. Oftentimes worlds will be conquered without a shot fired for even if the Primarch's supernatural charisma fails, he may simply overwhelm the minds of the people against him. He is a logokine, all languages instantly understandable to him and he is also a telepath with power to read and influence minds further than even an Astropath, at times indeed taking this duty for himself. For this reason, to see the Primarch truly on the battle or even planetside is a rare thing, the demi-God perfectly capable of doing all he needs for the war effort from orbit whilst doing his other valuable work in privacy.

Biography: The story of your Primarch's life, both before and after being picked up by the Emperor and his Grim Crusade. What did they do with themselves whilst on their home planet? When did they get picked up by the Crusade? What battles have they lead since then?

The Meeting: For this section, you’ll RP out how your Primarch met up with the Emperor, and the events surrounding that. The Meeting should be written as though it were a proper RP post, and as such at least two or three high-quality paragraphs should be put to paper. Please do not write from the Emperor's perspective at any point - though, given that he presents himself more or less however the beholder wishes to view him, you may retain the freedom to characterise him as you feel is most appropriate for the situation.

Name: Prometheus The Light Bringer


Gender: Male

Homeworld: Amn

Appearance: Prometheus is tall and powerful like all Primarchs, standing at a powerful 10'6". Prometheus is olive skinned, like that of the ancient Mediterranean empires with closely cropped black hair. Beyond the impressiveness of being a Primarch he actually looks rather plain, as if someone had simply taken any mortal man and made them larger. His most distinguishing feature is in his bearing rather than appearance with infinite patience and understanding like that of a scholar or tutor. Going so far as to allow his Captains and Generals of the Imperial Army build a system wide battle strategy with mere suggestions from the Primarch.

When prepared for battle the Primarch almost always wears some of the most massive and bulky battle plate possible, Prometheus looks like a Terminator grown to monstrous proportions. The armor thick and heavy enough to shrug off all but the most destructive attacks. The armor reflects his legion closely with gleaming bronze gauntlets boots and breastplate and pure white on the rest. His helm however is painted pitch black with a large crimson crest running along the top of the helm.

His Wargear is almost always an enormous power glaive "The Lance of Sol" that is nearly on the scale of a Knight titan lance.

A modified heavy bolter is affixed to his bracer armor granting him a powerfully destructive ranged weapon.

Otherwise he carries a huge Powersword and shield, though he does not use this unless he truely needs even more protection beyong his terminator armor

Personality: Prometheus is patient, nearly infinitely so, He can and does allow strategy meetings to run for many hours listening to each idea, its justification, the following debate, points of contention and suggestions of refinement. He has the power and ability to make unanimous decisions of command and will do so if he is pressed for time and a long meeting would threaten their war footing. This patience however occasionally causes friction with his siblings when they cant get a rise out of him or bore them with the endless meetings that define Prometheus and his war efforts.

Prometheus can not admit defeat, even when it is a clear and decisive defeat. While he has so far only experienced this once at the hands of the Emperor he has more than once pressed forward dragging a battle out to its conclusion even if the victory is a phyrric one. This has partially influenced the general strategy he employs, in using a slow grinding pace he can ensure his casualties are low while slowly cementing his inevitable victory.

Finally Prometheus is extremely trusting in those around him. While this does not extend to an Imperial Army officer he has never met his siblings, officers and generals he will trust almost without question. If they declare something he disagrees with or knows to be false he would argue the point but in most cases he will believe them at their word. This has bitten him before when a general is over confident and assured of his victory guaranteeing Prometheus some prize but ultimately failing and sending his carefully laid plans into chaos.

Skills: Prometheus is a master tactician - even beyond other Primarchs, this is helped by his limited forsight but he can craft a massively complex system wide war doctrine that will fracture and fold every defense thrown against him. While there are always situations that can not be won, if a path to victory exists he will find it. In defense he masterfully counter acts each offensive thrust by his enemy making any assault costly if not futile.

His other particular skill is influence on a crowd, while any Primarch speaking has ultimate authority, Promethius can influence a group very effectively. When giving a speech to his legion, Imperial Army, or the masses he can convince them into making nearly any effort for him. He can turn a regiment in full rout into an unbreakable unit or spark a citizen revolt to overthrow a regime to join the Imperium with a single speech.

Assignment Grade: Kappa - Prometheus possesses a bare hint of psyker ability which largely comes in two areas. The first is Divination that manifests itself as a simple hunch or feeling. This is usually during planning or discussions of strategy that a plan will seem flawless tactically but he will modify the plan to counteract an unknown threat. It is understood that this is part of his psychic ability but is not something he has any real control over.

The second is an inspiring presence when he chooses to use it. He only uses this ability on the battle field to bolster his Astartes and Imperial army units around him. Its effect is to inspire heroic bravery and fervor for glory pushing even the average imperial infantryman into an unyielding fighter stubborn in the face of any danger.

Biography:
Prometheus' clone pod fell upon the world of Amn, a hellish war-torn world of dozens of mighty Hive Cities each its own state in itself. The Hive Cities fought eternal bloody wars over the territories surrounding each Hive success only measured in how many factory complexes were captured and lost, the casualties generally... cataclysmic. Prometheus fell just outside one such city, Baldar one of the most vicious and powerful cities in the system. The only method for advancement was through military success and brutal efficiency. When his pod was found and the infant pulled from it he was inspected for signs of mutation and defect, as a Primarch none was found. He was raised as an orphan taught strategy and military theory while being brought up on stories of heroic warriors and genius generals. Prometheus absorbed these theories in mere months and was placed into the military as his guardians could no longer teach him.

Prometheus was the perfect soldier and rose through the ranks through sheer force of perfection and his brilliant tactical mind, easily shifting battles that would have otherwise been a crushing defeat into a heroic victory. Once he had grown to the place of the Governor-General's right hand he simply took control of the hive. This was done simply by showing that he would be a better leader and while the Governor-General tried to keep the reigns of power Prometheus was quickly backed not only by the whole hive's military but the populace as well. In a hand full of years Prometheus took control of his hive, the world however fought long and hard against him. However in a mere decade Prometheus had taken control of the world with weight of arms and oratory skill.

A single world was not enough, after encountering a small Ork empire and a cousin human civilization Prometheus knew that his little world was not enough to make a safe empire for the common mortal to live in. So, in reply to these discoveries he grew an Empire. After uniting the human civilization and eradicating the ork empire he continued his conquest across the stars building colonies and uniting humanity sometimes through conquest. Before long Prometheus set his sights on worlds already spoken for by the Imperium. When his fleets entered Imperial space they where greeted with open arms but the Expedition fleets quickly demanded annexation of the empire of Amn. Prometheus' representatives declined and it was eventually decided to conquer this Imperium.

It took the conquest of several systems and many Imperial worlds before this upstart Empire of Amn drew the ire of the Emperor. He a truly mighty crusade fleet came to quash Prometheus and his little empire. However when Prometheus became directly involved he nearly fought the crusade fleet to a stand still even with the vastly superior power of the Imperial forces. However the power of the Emperor, Astartes and Titan Legions eventually broke Promenteus' military. Their resilience proved that a Primarch must be at the head of this upstart so the Emperor struck at the heart of the empire to finally meet his lost child. The Emperor himself landed at the capital hive Baldar requesting a meeting with the Primarch at its head.

The Meeting:
The Emperor besieged the city of Balar with the full might of his crusade, Custodes, Astartes, Titan legions all arrayed against the Hive and Primarch within. Prometheus had grown to understand these forces in the long war against the Imperium. He knew the war was lost, no cunning flourish of strategy could turn the tide in his favor now. The lines are drawn and all that remains is to have the final battle. He should surrender he knew, but his pride and honor could not allow such a thing. Prometheus had to fight to the end, when the last soldier drew his last breath was when he could finally admit defeat. So there was only one other option. Rather than allowing the city to burn and his people die in their millions the Primarch and his army would sally forth and fight this Emperor in the field so he and his forces could die like heroes and the city would survive.

He called the army and collected what little might remained, the soldiers where little more than conscripts called now after his veterans where killed on far off worlds. Even still the battle must be joined. Nearly 1 million men and women gathered in the great streets before the gate of the hive city equipped no better than the Imperial Army troopers surrounding the city. Prometheus standing with his back to the gate surveyed the soldiers before him and the civilian onlookers. as he begins to speak the gate begins to roll open.
"My friends! My Sons and Daughters!" the Primarch shouts "I see fear, fear that would take even my spirit. A day may come where the world of Amn falls, a day of ruin and blood.. But that is not this day! This is a day of heroes! Your strength will be tested but you are the Warriors of Amn! And you my Warriors! my Knights! will strike awe and terror into our enemies and bring this Emperor to his knees!" with a final boom the gates stand fully open "Our deeds this day will echo in Eternity!" he shouts with finality and turns to charge out the gate on foot with the million of soldiers cheering behind him prepared to charge into certain death and more than willing to do so.

The guns of the Imperial lines stay silent though more than able to shell the entire force into oblivion. The Emperor stands directly opposite the charging lines his great blazing sword sticking from the ground before him with his Custodes guard and the Entire 5th legion at his back. Just before the lines came to firing range the Emperor spoke.
"HALT"
The word was not so much a command, but a fact, as the word left his lips it was carried across the battlefield with his power bringing the charge to an instant stop dispelling the fervor granted by Prometheus and bringing most to their knees in supplication there and then. Even Prometheus found his muscles rebelling against him halting his momentum. The Emperor strode forwards accompanied by a single Custodes carrying a banner. Prometheus watched the Emperor approach but was at a loss, if the Emperor could simply have stopped the fighting with a single command, why was he allowing any of this charade? he could easily destroy Prometheus and the rest of his army at a whim.

When they came to a few dozen yards of each other Prometheus exploded forward lashing out with his blade, engaging the Emperor in a duel of blades. They seemed evenly matched blazing around the area in a furious trade of blows. It took only moments however before Prometheus realized this was not a battle per say, the Emperor was trying to converse with him. The fight dragged on for a full minute with the Emperor pointing out each strategic mistake by Prometheus of their duel with swordplay alone. The fight stopped when the Emperor disarmed Prometheus by cleaving the hilt from the blade of the Primarch's sword.
"You must be the leader here" The Emperor said not even winded from the duel. "none other could be leading this empire, how else could you have taken so many worlds, even many of my worlds, and fought my legions to a draw"
Prometheus stared in fascination, Their duel had been furious and oddly educational, but the Emperor spoke now as if the duel had been a series of introductions of names and honorifics before the actual conversation could begin.
"I did not personally take any of your worlds, my generals had full autonomy to wage those wars"
The Emperor blinked, though none save the Primarchs could have seen the surprise written on his features.
"I see" the Emperor finally said as if finally working something out he was unsure of "I knew one of my children was here, and I am pleased I have found you" as if stating he knew one of his children was here but finally realizing which one. "Come my son, we must speak"

It was then Prometheus' turn to blink, for an instant he did not think it was likely or even possible but something he could not explain made him realize it was true. It may have been some psyker influence by the Emperor or a flash of insight through his own abilities but something told him it was true. Prometheus nodded and looked around at the forces around his hive "I suppose we should" he said finally. The Emperor strode through the prostrate army and into the Hive, the pair went to the top of the Spire locking themselves into Prometheus' private residence. The two were there for several weeks. Nobody knew what they spoke of and the pair never revealed the content of their meeting, when they emerged they emerged as father and son.

Legion Name: Knights of Awe

Legion Number: V

Legion Strength: 85,000 Astartes
1,500,000 Astarte Auxilia

Armour Appearance:


Warcry: "And the ground shall tremble" (reference to a speech by the primarch before a collossal artillery barrage)
"Now for wrath, Now for ruin, For the Imperium!"

Dramatis Personae:
Lord Strategos Arghan - A Lord commander of the Knights of Awe, Arghan a terran born Astartes and one of the eldest Marines in the legion and among the highest ranks. This rank however is well earned as a strategic mastermind that had been honed by years of working with the Primarch. Arghan commands a large portion of the legion and attached forces almost entirely autonomously being trusted to command the forces with little input from the Primarch. the commander has his own quirks but they are seldom seen as he often emulates his Primarch as the patient leader. When caught up in battle however he sometimes forgets this patience and becomes a rabid glory hound, driving his forces a little harder to be the first to claim entrance to a citadel or the enemy general's head.

Strategos Gaalus - Gaalus is the commander of the Primarch's elite guard and shocktroops. While he proves to be a middling strategic level commander he is an excellent battlefield leader and will often be found directing the battle surrounding the Primarch while he is distracted directing other aspects of the war from a field command vehicle. Gaalus being the field commander of the Primarchs elite guard and shocktroops makes him a brash and direct leader, often leading the charge Power Glaive held high. Unfortunately this role has also trained him to be somewhat uncreative but having a large force of Terminator Astartes means this is also generally unnecessary due to sheer destructive potential.

Commander Illan Haen - Commander Haen is theoretically the commander of the Astarte Auxilia though the fact that his forces are more or less under the command of the Astartes he actually does very little commanding. He functions as more of an official representative for the Auxilia in relations to other Imperial Army regiments, the Mechanicus and occasionally other Astartes. This is useful however as he was an uninspired commander who would be doomed to languish in lower officer ranks if it where not his Terran noble heritage. This position is an eccelent one for him as he is a brilliant politician who forges friendships in other Regiments and with the Mechanicus to ensure smooth cohesion and supply.

Strategos Arlym - Commander of the Siege, He is the commander who directs the complicated system of artillery and armor for war. When Arlym lauches an attack it is with the full weight of the Imperial Army's artillery, armored regiments, and Super-heavy tanks along with Astartes heavy armor and artillery. Arlym is the hammer of the Legion that will shatter the enemy defences for the rest of the legion to flood into and finish the war. While his orders are often to complete fairly simple tasks Arlym is a cunning commander masterfully using his forces to deliver annihilation. This immense power has made the commander rather arrogant, but when commanding the power to level hive-cities with mere ordinance it is often understandable.

Ancient Deckard - Deckard is the defacto leader of the Knights of Mourning, A force of Dreadnoughts and Dread-Sentinels that are the legions mightiest 'surviving' heroes. Deckard was the Legion Master of the Knights who was mortally wounded in one of the early engagements in the legion's history. Deckard has watched over the legion from his dreadnought casket for over 100 years offering valuable council and advice to the legion leadership. While the ancient has no command authority the immense respect the legion has for him means his word is nearly as valuable as the Primarch's. Even Prometheus gives a great deal of weight to the dreadnought's words. However due to the nearly proto-type nature of his dreadnought casket and complications during his entombment Deckard can not utilize the full extent of his warmachine without being in mind shattering pain. So he is strictly a ceremonial part of the legion and does not go to war any longer.

Baroness Flavia 'Blood Raven' Atma - Baroness Atma, more commonly known as the Blood Raven is General of the Astarte Auxila continget attatched to the Primarch's Elite guard and Shock troops. Hailing from a lesser noble house on Terra her rise as the barbarian general of the Astarte auxilia is a curious one, She is a savage and brutal commander often standing on the front line next to Astartes Terminators in her own power armor. Her name is derived from her battle lust and near constant desire for the Primarch and the Elite guard to take the field in direct, and bloody, frontal assaults. For all her savagery however, she is an excellent and intelligent commander inspiring those in her command to feats of bravery that are unheard of for any other Imperial Army force. All that said, she is a singularly terrible politician and diplomat, she has no respect for any person who is not a warrior of some kind and even casts skepticism towards any Imperial army that has not proven themselves, even some young Astartes have found themselves the subject of her ire.

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role:
The Knights of Awe are a unique Legion whom works very closely with the Imperial Army, To the point that the tactics they most often employ require the Army's assistance. Each Marine is assigned to a squad, usually 10 troopers, whom he helps train and educate. While the Marine is not always with the army squad he spends a great deal of his time with them and in battle the Marine generally fights along side the squad. However the Legion fields larger units in most cases and will have a squad of Marines leading a large Platoon of Imperial Army. If squads are dispatched away from the primary battle the Marines assigned to them often join granting valuable firepower and a heroic example to inspire the troopers. While this tactic makes the Knights of Awe are less powerful alone, with its Imperial Army support it is an unstoppable force that simply rolls over any opposition. The Marines simply adding a sharp edge to the immense hammer that is the Imperial Army.

Due to their relationship with the Imperial Army their tactics have bled into each other's so that the Legion utilizes slow and grinding trench warfare and siege tactics to colossal effect. The trench line with its vast array of heavy weapons and artillery makes an unyielding phalanx for the enemies of man to spear themselves upon.

On the offensive units are given very general orders and allowed to accomplish the orders however they see fit. The general belief being that the officer on the battlefield can read and plan the specifics better than an officer back at the command post. This has been highly effective, even when the overarching battle strategy is simple this offers soldiers the flexibility to add masterful flourishes of prowess.

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: Most of the legionaries when not dedicated to their own training or in battle are more like scholars and educators rather than soldiers. They are often found with a unit of Imperial Army training them and teaching them advanced tactical theory. Though mortal limits dictate how much the Astartes can train them and outside of that they are generally found in libraries or private rooms discussing different tactics and strategies. Even though the Legion more often than not finds itself in grinding trench warfare they are each masters of small unit tactics as individual squads are given nearly complete autonomy in how to accomplish their orders. At each level of command one would find them conversing among themselves the finer points and subtle strategies of their size of command, however many officers bring their subordinates into the same debates as an education grooming each for command.

Relationships: TBD

Name: Micholi Vakarian

Gender:
Male

Homeworld:
The Reserve.
Details explained in Biography.

Appearance:




Micholi was once a rather handsome young man. His eyes a piecing grey, his hair a soft black and his features sharp and striking. Despite being a giant of a man possessing super human levels of strength, the way he moved with precision and care was actually reassuring and comforting to those around him.

War takes its toll however and for Micholi that toll came in the form of a toxin covered eldar blade; During a fight against a trio of skilled Eldar warriors, one of them managed to get a slash in against the right side of his face. The wound itself was jagged and cruel to begin with, the toxins on the blade quickly began to eat away at flesh and muscle. Between the toxin being designed to incapacitate via horrific pain rather than kill and the powerful healing factor all Primarchs possess the damaged was limited to the superficial, but it left a horrible scar of damaged flesh and tissue along the right side of Micholi's face.

The tattoo on Micholi's face are markings from the culture of his adoptive mother. Each colonized tur planet has their own series of markings that they tattoo on their face as a sign of where they come from and as a connection to the planet they are born on. While turs typically use face paint because their biology doesn't really allow them to ink pictures into their flesh, Micholi made his markings a part of him because he was proud of his adoptive mother and her culture and promised to never deny it.

Personality:
Micholi is both rather flexible and ridged in his thinking. Give him an objective and he will see it done. Give him bonus and side objectives to go with the original and he will go to great lengths to achieve them as well. When it comes time to figure out the how to achieve these objectives, Micholi will explore all valid paths and plans until he can find one that achieves as many (if not all) objectives possible with the best long term results. He is also humble enough to acknowledge when he is not the right person for the job to get the best results or achieve the desired objectives, but if there is no time to get such a person then he will do what he can.

Micholi is both ponderous and meticulous, taking his time to understand as much of the situation as possible before taking action. He is not immune to impulse, since he had long learned to trust his gut feelings when he receives insight into opportunities that have not yet presented themselves (a manifestation of his psyker abilities into divination). He is slow to anger or emotional turmoil, but in return when something does get to him it hits him hard.

The realities of war dictate that people will die. Micholi is aware of this cold, harsh fact and regardless of his personal feelings on the matter he accepted it long ago... despite this, he still cares deeply about the lives he is responsible for. Not just for the Space Marines of his legion, but also those of Imperial Army elements and even civilians he is tasked with overseeing and protecting. He'll even extend the courtesy to the lives of enemy combatants and civilians if they have redeemable qualities but they are at war for political reasons.

When Micholi has to fight a war, how that war is fought and the tactics used will depend almost completely on whom he is fighting. If he is fighting an enemy that he deems would be a wonderful assist to the Imperium but they are fighting because they have rejected all diplomatic options, he will learn what virtues the people he is fighting value and plan a clean, honorable war while respecting those virtues and what those people value. No atrocities or mindless slaughters that could breed resentment and be a rallying cry for rebellion down the track. Ideally, in victory the Imperium will have earned a grudging respect at worst from the foe and that respect can be the foundation of loyalty.

If only portions of the enemy have redeemable qualities while others are foul and corrupt in nature, then the plan will instead focus on safe guarding those good elements while purging the filth in the same way one prunes weeds from healthy plants. In the event that there is no redeeming quality whatsoever, then the foe is to be destroyed utterly. The very foundations of their existence will be broken apart so that the roots themselves can be pulled out and burned to ash so that when fresh soil and new life is put where they once stood, there will be no trace of the old to risk corrupting the new.

Having been raised by a mixture of humans, abhumans, mutants and xenos Micholi unsurprisingly actually has a very positive opinion on alien kind and will advocate in their favor. Even if it is currently only in the trial stages, he hopes that he can convince the Emperor to relax regulations against xenos across the Imperium. That said, he is neither naive or a fool; He is well aware of the fact that there are xenos out in the universe that either cannot or should not exist alongside others, the Cruciatu Empire being a key example of the latter. For the good of not just humanity, but all living things, these creatures must be hunted down and destroyed.

Surprisingly he has very little opinion on psykers. As far as Micholi knows he's never encountered one and he is unaware of the fact that he has psyker abilities himself. Truth be told, he's only recently discovered that they are a thing. From what stories he has heard, his views on them are that they are useful, but need to be employed and used carefully. One shouldn't mess with powers one doesn't understand recklessly.

Skills:
Micholi is a master of logistics and guerrilla warfare... as well as proving to be an expert on how to counter insurgencies and rebellions. Off the field of battle through he is a amazing diplomat and is multi-lingual in a number of human languages alongside several alien ones.

Assignment Grade:
Beta Level, favoring Divination... even if he wasn't aware he was doing it at the time. His ability to get a 'fairly good idea' of what his enemies were planning and going to do combined with his presence having something of an 'inspiring effect' on his followers helped them win battles that due to the nature of their enemy they wouldn't have otherwise seen coming or survived.

Biography:

To understand Micholi and the challenges he had to overcome, one must first understand the foe that he was up against.

Before the fall of Long Night and the Age of Strife, the Kirk system was settled in the Dark Age of Technology. Consisting of four habitable worlds and some asteroid belts, the star system and the cosmic bodies within said system earned their names shortly after the colony ship arrived. Navigator Kirk had fallen asleep while he was on duty and almost resulted in the colony’s premature destruction because the ship almost crashed headfirst into the planet they wished to settle. As a spiteful joke, the colonists started naming the planets around them after virtues that Kirk didn’t have and the names kind of stuck.

Of the four planets, only three of them were colonized.

Kirk's Vigilance (the original world the settlers almost crashed into and system capital) was a continental world that became a minor trade hub for humanity in the dark age of technology, mostly dealing with illegal goods due to not being along any major trade routes and having very lax cargo inspections when it came to 'trusted traders' (It was felt that the more money a trader paid towards one of many charities local to the system that the customs agents championed, the more trustworthy they were and thus the less inspections needed to be taken).

Kirk's Generosity was a prime Agri-World and it was the second to be colonized. It was even provided with a Questoris Knight Paladin named Light's Shield to protect it, the Paladin being piloted by the highly respected Goldragon family over the years.

Kirk's Integrity was the third world to be settled. A giant, barren wasteland of a planet with a barely breathable atmosphere and a complete and utter lack of life, the planet itself was found to be insanely wealthy with minerals and ores. A mining colony was quickly established, but as time went on the actual colonists and miners were replaced by convicts and criminals as the planet turned into a penal planet. Didn't need much in the way of a garrison due to the fact that the world didn't grow any food or have any animals on it, meaning that the population could be kept largely under control by the fact that food had to be shipped in.

The fourth world, Kirk's Curiosity, was never settled. It was a habitable world with a breathable atmosphere, but apart from space it didn’t really offer anything that would make colonizing the planet worth the expense. Granted it wasn’t barren of resources since there were some deposits of ore that could be mined, the flora and fauna weren’t overly dangerous and crops could be grown from the soil, but compared to the other planets in the system it was just a colder, worse version of Vigilance.

Over time numerous plans to take advantage of the planet for some purpose or another were suggested, but few of them ever really went beyond the theory stage… and those that did tended to fall when the exact figures of expected returns came up. So for almost all the time that humans were in the Kirk system, the planet only ever saw the occasional squatter in the form of a noble or criminal (sometimes the same person) hiding out or creating a hidden stockpile on a planet with no one else on it.

The Age of Strife was relatively kind to the Kirk system; It had been out of the way enough that AI units were expensive and rare, meaning that when the Men of Iron turned on their masters there weren't really enough of them in system to pose the extermination threat they did elsewhere. When psykers started to develop, the black market of Vigilance responded by capturing as many of them as possible and shipping them off elsewhere (either whole or in pieces) in the name of profit. The warp storms that made travel impossible however brought an end to the system being able to trade outwards, so instead they focused their attentions inwards to survive.

When the warp storms finally faded, the Kirk system was tentatively ruled by an Oligarchy of ‘noble’ houses made up of the descendants of important political figures and important business leaders whom had survived the turmoil over the years. However, while the fading of the warp storms brought with it opportunities, it also brought in a danger that hadn't been a factor until then; Shortly after the storms had faded, the Kabal of the Moon Blades arrived and started their opening probing operations.

Where the other noble houses of the Kirk System saw (rightfully) a threat to themselves and humanity that needed to be fought and cast back into the void from once they had come, House Cruciatu’s current head, Victor Cruciatu, saw an opportunity and a possible ally to finally swing the balance of power in a way that his forebears had only ever dreamed of. While publicly Victor and his House decried the horrors that had been wrought by the xeno’s invaders in their typical opening terror attacks to inspire as much fear into the local population as possible, privately Victor reached out to the archon leading the raiders in order to work out… an arrangement of sorts.

In exchange for not attacking the holdings of House Cruciatu, Victor was more then happy to sell out the other noble houses by revealing locations, details about their plans and defenses and in the case of his family’s ancient enemies House Goldragon, send his own agents to eliminate as many of them as possible. Accepting the relatable desire to see ones enemies cast down in ruin and seeing the value of having insider information to help limit the inherent risks that came with raiding for slaves, the Kabal was more than happy to accept this deal as was, call it a very good day for them and make plans to come back in a century or so to either do it again or (if no one was willing to play ball) loot everything of value with bonus point if they nailed it down before they dragged it kicking and screaming away.

When Victor offered a second part to the deal, the Kabal was honestly surprised by the sheer ambition of the human they were talking to… and intrigued.

Victor didn’t want the other noble houses weakened; He wanted them completely removed and House Cruciatu ascendant as the one and only rightful ruler of the Kirk system. He also had plans to extend an empire outside of the system… and in exchange for the Kabal assisting in his rise to power, as well as making themselves available as allies and trade partners going forward, he was prepared to offer them a bulk hurler worth of slaves alongside enough food and water to reasonably last the captives till they got back to the Dark City itself. Every. Single. Year.

The slaughter of the noble houses of the Kirk system that followed was swift, brutal and absolute, with all members of the families and their servants either disappearing without a trace or being found in such a way that those who encountered it were deeply scarred for the rest of their lives… with the notable exception of House Goldragon, who had some of their members actually turn up dead due to more mundane things like poison.

With all their rivals eliminated, House Cruciatu naturally rose to become the sole power in the Kirk system with Victor as its head. Also, quite naturally, there was a great deal of uproar as quite a few people made the leap in logic that the one noble house that was completely unharmed by the actions of the xenos invaders might have made some sort of arrangement to make such a thing happen. A vast majority of these people were rounded up and divided between getting on a bulk hurler, being shipped to Integrity or being the first people to be sent to colonize the newly renamed Reserve.

Formally Kirk's Curiosity, Reserve would serve an important purpose in the Cruciatu Empire. As the Empire expanded beyond the Kirk system and started conquering or raiding planets (they preferred to set up one outpost in a system and leave less fortunate inhabited worlds they came across alone so that their populations could grow between harvests), after sorting the captured slaves into a number of groups to be sent elsewhere or sold, those left over would be given some supplies, some equipment and sent to Reserve to colonize it. They would be promised to be left alone for a few years to get settled before they started to tax them.

After waiting a few years for a settlement to be established and for the slaves there to start doing things like having families... they would be raided by Cruciatu slavers. Strictly speaking, they would be raided by slavers/solders who had undergone their training (both by human and dark eldar mercenaries hired for the task from the kabal) but hadn't yet gone out on a proper raid yet. Sending them to raid a settlement on Reserve was a means of letting them get that live combat experience under ideal circumstances: They had air superiority, knew where the targets were, a rough idea of how many to expect and held a massive tech advantage with the added benefit that if something went wrong, medical attention was nearby and easy to withdraw to.

While the captives taken in these raids to be offered up as part of the tribute to the Kabal, the point was made to allow some of the population flee into the wilds. Since there wasn't really any dangerous wildlife on Reserve or threats outside of the raids (or the occasional hunt purchased by a noble from Vigilance or Dark Eldar coming to visit who wanted the thrill of hunting their own slaves), the population on the planet was slowly but surely increasing over time... ensuring that if the slaver fleets weren't going to arrive in time around the time of tribute to the Kabal, there was a reserve of slaves on hand to be offered up to be sent to the dark city.

Reserve itself was covered in the ruins of many settlements. Dozens of different construction styles, cultures and species having been placed on the planet... with their constructors only rarely coming to try and salvage something when they had to risk coming out of the wilds, terrified of being the next to disappear in the raids. Humans of many different worlds and lifestyles, stable strains of mutants and abhumans created by the age of strife and even xenos whom had only recently been able to spread their own wings in what had once been the promise of a new age as the warp storms faded away... all huddled in fear together in what shelters they could find because to be alone was to disappear without anyone knowing or caring.

This is the world that Micholi's pod landed on.

Most of the somewhat skittish population of Reserve nearby didn't go to investigate the impact, fearful that it was either a trap by the Cruciatu to lure them out into the open or if it wasn't that they would soon be investigating what it was and didn't want to be caught in the open when they turned up.

Only two went to have a look. The first as a tur woman by the name of Popivia Vakarian. A woman whom had recently entered middle age for her people, she had lost her husband in the opening raid of their settlement on Reserve and had only recently watched her only child choke to death in her arms due to an illness that if they had access to even the most basic of her people's medical equipment would have been easily survivable. She didn't care if she was taken or died anymore and going to check what the impact was seemed like a good way to do either.

The second was a reptilian beastman (more of a teenage boy, but he had seen more then enough in his short life to be a man) from a desert world named Taamir. While he would have been more then happy to let whatever had impacted with the ground be left undiscovered, Popivia was apart of his herd now and when she insisted on going he couldn't in good conscience let her go out there alone... so he had gone with to help watch her back.

They didn't know what to make of the pod or it's contents at first; While the Cruciatu were learning a lot in the way of sadism and terror from their eldar masters, they could tell that the pod was not Cruciatu technology and they strongly doubted that it was one of the Eldar's devices. The fact that the pod contained what appeared to be a perfectly happy and healthy human baby boy only furthered deepened the puzzle, but quickly deducing that it probably wasn't some kind of trap or ploy from the slavers they grabbed the child and got the hell out of there before they were discovered.

Popivia adopted the small human child as her own, naming him Micholi after a mythic figure of Tur legends... but she didn't raise the child alone; Young Micholi's childhood was spent being raised by the odd assortment of people and races of his adopted mother's 'herd' as Taamir liked to call them. Most of the group was made up of humans with no two of them having originally come from the same world, but there was also a small number of mutants and abhumans as well. Popivia had been the only tur left after the tragic death of her son, but she dedicated herself fully to the task of raising her new adoptive child as well as she could under the circumstances that they had found themselves in.

Micholi grew incredibly quickly, going from a baby barely a few days old to being taller and stronger then Taamir within a span of two years. There were enough humans hanging around to point out that this wasn't normal in the slightest but... well, he could pull his own weight now without them having to babysit him so there wasn't a whole lot to complain about. Micholi adopted to the harshness of their situation incredibly well, between the daily struggle to gather enough food and water, secure shelter and remain hidden from the odd Cruciatu raiding party (or worse, the odd eldar). Occasionally they found new herds or just lone people whom joined their own band of misfits... sometimes someone just disappeared while they were out and as much as they hoped they had just gotten lost and would find a new herd to help, deep in their hearts they mourned the loss of another family member that had been taken.

At night, after they had set up camp, Micholi listened to the stories of his people. Tales of worlds and cultures that he knew existed because the living proof was literally right there in front of him, telling the story to him. Explaining their history and sharing their myths and legends... and mourning for their homes and the families that they had been stolen from, even if they never said it out loud... and as he dedicated all of these stories to memory so that if another member of his family was to disappear a part of them would live on, Micholi learned many virtues... but one of the few he knew at his core that would be able to survive on Reserve for long was hate.

He hated the Cruciatu for the things they had done, the lives they had ruined and the dark pleasure they took in committing their crimes solely because there was no one around strong enough or willing to stop them. He hated the Eldar, because as bad as the Cruciatu were they were merely students of their Eldar masters that they aspired to be like in every way they could. Worst of all, he hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to bring their reign to an end; He could literally gaze up and see the heart of their darkness itself up in the night sky, but he had no means to strike at it. Not in a way that would cause them any meaningful harm, let alone remove their blight from the universe.

For many months he pondered on the problem, coming up with hundreds, possibly thousands of different plans and strategies of how to destroy the Cruciatu empire and stop it from causing anymore harm... none of which would work. It was a dark day when he finally conceded to himself that even if he united all of Reserve under his banner, they would never be able to overcome all the advantages that the Cruciatu empire had... the biggest one which was the fact that they didn't live on Reserve and there was no way for him and his people to actually reach them on the battlefields that would matter. Without the ability to strike at the worlds were they were getting their resources from, any losses they took would be replaced in time.

The cold, hard fact of the matter was that this was not a war that Micholi could win...

But...

One night, when he was on guard duty and was gazing at the sky in deep thought... maybe he didn't have to win. Maybe the path to victory was not in victory at all... but merely the act of not losing. For the rest of the night Micholi followed this new line of thought; This new objective on which to stage a campaign and for the first time in his life he finally developed a plan that wasn't assured to fail. The odds of a successful outcome were slim at best, there would be no glory or honor to be earned and chances were that all that would happen was they would all die with their actions forgotten and their names unmourned... but a slim hope was better then none at all and the chance to cause the slavers to bleed lit a fire that warmed him to his core, even on such a chilly night.

Before he tried to convince the rest of his herd, there was one woman he needed to speak to first. He waited until morning for his mother Popivia to wake up before he took her aside to speak with her in private. He told her of the plans he had, of what it would take to make them happen and his expectations of how things would go. He told her everything, sparing no detail and making it clear he had thought the whole thing through, including all the ways that it could go wrong and acknowledging that there were things he didn't know and couldn't factor in.

She listened. Occasionally she would ask a question or have a line of inquiry because either she needed help understanding something or she wanted to make sure that she hadn't noticed something her son might have missed. His answers satisfied her. When he was finished, Popivia hugged her adopted son tightly, told him just how proud she was of him and not only gave him her blessing, but swore to do everything she could to help.

With the full support of the one person in existence that Micholi would have heeded if she had told him this was a bad idea, he moved with full confidence to speak with the rest of his herd. It took a few hours, but Micholi remembered fondly the exact moment when he saw the fear in their eyes lit up with hatred as the fear they had lived with for so long caught flame and served as fuel instead of a burden.

They sort out other groups, each one easier to convince then the last as Micholi refined his ability to speak to crowds and individuals alike. Soon he was singling out the more passionate and well spoken of his followers and grouping them together so that they could go forth and spread the message in his stead for he could not be everywhere at once and they needed everyone they could get who was sick of cowering in holes and burned out ruins waiting to die or worse, be taken.

Even as the message was sent out, it would take months of work to set up the groundwork, but many hands made light work and none worked harder then Micholi himself. Equipment from the ruined settlements was looted and repurposed, actual weapons being rare but mining equipment being common enough that some small scale operations were able to get underway in secret. They mined what iron they could, created underground bunkers and hidden tunnels, started gathering stockpiles of supplies and created basic but solid metal weapons, some more exotic then others. Micholi was a quick study of how to use these weapons to the surprise of many since some of them weren't designed with humans in mind, but in the end he elected to go with a large, two handed hammer that was designed to take advantage of his larger size, strength and reach.

Micholi didn't know how he decided upon the first ambush site; He had been looking at a hand drawn map of the parts of the world they were aware of and he found himself gazing at an almost random spot before pointing at it and saying with confidence that surprised even himself 'There'. After the fact he came up with reasonable sounding excuses as to why a team of slavers would show up at that location, but to his mother he softly admitted that the moment he saw the map he just knew with absolutely certainty that the slavers would be there... and he didn't quite know why.

His gut feeling proved well justified however. A Cruciatu ship landed in the ambush site and teams of rookie slavers were unloaded before the ship took off again, the solders left on the ground taking time to check their gear and organize. They weren't expecting to be ambushed and thus they hadn't bothered to patrol the perimeter, gloating to each other about all the slaves they were going to capture from the group that was hiding out near the nearby river.

They would not get there.

The ambush wasn't perfect, but the element of total surprise at being on the receiving end of an ambush, the lack of experience of the slavers themselves and the fury of having to live in constant fear for years being unleashed carried the day. Most of the slavers were killed in the swift and brutal melee that followed, but some were taken alive. All the bodies were removed from the site and their trail was covered as much as they could in order to hide exactly what had happened... as well as the fact that they had taken prisoners and looted all of the equipment. Mainly, their weapons and com units.

The war on Reserve would carry on like this for over a decade. A ship would be sent to the planet with Micholi having a surprisingly accurate gut feeling of not just when this was happening, but where it was going to land. If it was somewhere on the planet where their insurgency hadn't quite reached yet there was little they could do, but if it was landing was somewhere they could reach the nearest cell would be contacted over their increasingly growing radio network and an ambush would be prepared. If he could get there in time, Micholi would join the ambush himself.

Most were successful, through a number didn't end as smoothly as the original did. People Micholi had trained with, spent years alongside would get injured, crippled or die. It was the nature of war that people would be maimed or killed and Micholi had known that going into it but... when he had a moment, he would take the time to reflect on what he remembered of them and if he didn't know them personally he would find those that did. Even if it was just what their name was.

Few ambushes ever truly failed. If an ambush was getting messy or appearing to go poorly they had trained to fall back and disengage to either bait them into following into another ambush or regrouping to strike again later when the opportunity presented itself because throwing lives away was not an option. However, slaver teams that had eldar mercenaries connected to them to assist in their training tended to make things go horribly wrong very quickly if Micholi wasn't there.

Despite the few tragic defeats, within the decade Micholi had managed to unite if not all the slaves on Reserve, then at least the vast majority of them... and if he or his people couldn't find them he wished them the best of luck. The range in which they could intercept the raids had increased as well, covering almost the entire planet save for the tops of its few mountains and in the middle of the large water bodies. Punching the numbers, Micholi figured that out of all the ships the Cruciatu had sent since he started his campaign, if one factored in those ships that had landed in areas where they hadn't been able to get a force in to ambush in time back during the early years, seventy eight percent of them had left Reserve empty of both slaves and slavers.

The nature of the war changed just a little under 10 years, 6 months after the ambushes started. The Cruciatu stopped sending rookies needing some live experience at raiding; Instead, they sent in one of their proper raiding fleets. Micholi's campaign was baring fruit. Denying Reserve from the Cruciatu Empire so that they couldn't use it as a training ground for those recruits finishing their basic training, alongside killing as many of said recruits as possible had the benefit of hopefully reducing the quality of the new generation of slavers being built up, but the real goal had been to force the Cruciatu to dedicate resources away from more important fronts to try and retake a world of admitting little value to them at the heart of their empire because pride and a desire not to seem politically weak would not allow a slave uprising to undermine their authority.

Where the first stage of the war had taken a decade, the second only lasted two years. The doctrine of Micholi's forces was clear on how to fight this war: Never give them a clear target. Bleed whatever forces they send down with hit and run attacks, ambushes and misdirection, don't present them with a target they can get a bombing run or an orbital bombardment off on without having to hit a sizeable chunk of their own men in the process and above all else, don't die or let them take you alive. Every day you stay alive and free to take pot shots at them is another day they're stuck here with nothing to show for it but a raising body count and a drain on resources.

For his part, Micholi did co-ordinate the efforts of his forces where he could but he had spent the decade beforehand training his forces to be flexible and decentralized to take full advantage of the kind of war they were going to be fighting as well as to preventing a single assassination spelling doom. Instead, Micholi's vital contribution to the cause was by being the only real hard counter that his forces had to the eldar contingents of the subjection force.

The Eldar had been encountered during the decade of ambushes prior, but they tended to be in very small numbers, serving as instructors towards mostly human forces. While experience had proven time and time again that the Eldar could be killed, their advanced technology, supernaturally fast speed and reflexes as well as (having learned from the captives they had taken) incredibly long lives of experience in combat and taking slaves, fighting the Eldar was still a daunting mountain of a task. Micholi was the only one who had been able to fight and kill Eldar consistently, with his presence serving to bluster those with him to fight on the level required to do so.

Combating the Eldar parts of the Cruciatu forces proved vital to the war effort, since not only were they unbelievably good at ambushing the ambushers but they also had a gift for sniffing out their hidden tunnels, storehouses and bunkers which the human elements of the Cruciatu simply couldn't match. There was one silver lining, but Micholi and his followers were never quite sure what the root cause of it was: For every squad of Eldar raiders who were eliminated, their overall presence diminished. Their numbers weren't being replaced. It was unclear if this was because there weren't that many Eldar to begin with, or if the fact that there was something that was able to kill them in droves was making the other Eldar reluctant to commit themselves to this campaign, but each Eldar death made the night that little bit safer.

Then, one day... the fighting stopped. The raider fleet in orbit disappeared and the Cruciatu stopped sending forces to Reserve altogether. Micholi and his forces would remain vigilant for months after the disappearance, paranoid that it was some sort of ploy to let their guard down or that it was merely a lull before the storm kicked off even worse then before.

No Cruciatu ship ever came back... but another ship did. One that wasn't of Cruciatu or Eldar design. At first they were suspicious of the new ship, but when Micholi gazed up at it for the first time the gut feeling that had served him so well over the years served him again. He broadcasted a message on an open channel and within the hour a shuttle landed on Reserve's soil, baring the Emperor of Mankind.

The meeting between Micholi and the Emperor was awkward at first, partly because Micholi figured pretty damn quickly that if things turned hostile that it wouldn't end well for himself or his followers, but the presence of mutants, abhumans and xenos among his followers clearly put the bodyguards whom had come with the Emperor on edge even if the man himself kept a diplomatic face up. Still, the two of them retreated into a nearby bunker prepared for such a meeting in order to talk in private.

They discussed many things together, the topics starting about things such as the war on Reserve, what the Cruciatu empire had used it for, the nature of the alliance between the Cruciatu and the Eldar (The Emperor informed his son that while the two forces had fought against him until this point, now that his own forces had pushed them back to the Kirk system the Eldar had seemingly abandoned their allies to their fate), what Micholi had hoped to achieve and the make up of the forces under his command.

This last subject resulted in a bit of a argument between the two, with the Emperor using personal experience and data from prior engagements of the Great Crusade why the presence of Xenos and mutants was problematic, while Micholi argued in favor of the residents of Reserve, as well as their counterparts on the other planets in the Kirk system and beyond. It wasn't a heated argument since both parties could at least see where the other was coming from (the Eldar proved a good common ground for the two as evidence that some xenos species were monsters that couldn't be allowed to exist) and a compromise was reached.

Since the xenos, abhumans and mutants that Micholi had united alongside his human forces seemed perfectly stable and were willing to fall under human leadership, the Emperor made the decision to give them something of a trial run, not only to see if they could continue to work alongside humans but also to test Micholi and make sure that he would be up to the task of leading his legion in the Crusade itself.

The arrangement was that the worlds of the various xenos, abhumans and mutants would not be invaded, with the xenos citizens on Reserve would undergo questioning about their cultures and peoples, with the Emperor sending his own agents (both overt and subtle) to visit the worlds their races lived on in order to inspect them and vet them for suitability into being brought into the Imperium as if they were a human world. In the case of the abhumans and mutants, those present on Reserve would undergo some medical tests in order to inspect just how stable their genetics and strains were, as well as undergo questioning about their cultures and people so that their worlds could be judged as all abhuman populations were.

Micholi himself would shadow his biological father for the rest of the campaign against the Cruciatu, but at his own request he asked not to be in a command position. He didn't have an idea of the capabilities of the Space Marine legions his father commanded or the equipment that they had access to so he reasonably admitted that he wouldn't be able to lead them effectively. Finding the request reasonable and logical the Emperor agreed, Micholi serving the role of bodyguard for this campaign so that he could learn to be a commander of a legion in his own right.

The liberation of Kirk's Generosity was a somewhat swift but bloody affair, but for the most surprising of reasons. When Imperial forces landed, the various slave races and native human population rose up in revolt against the forces of House Cruciatu; It might have been a lifetime since House Goldragon had been eliminated, but their people hadn't forgotten them. They remembered what fair and just leadership was and knew in their hearts that there was something dark and rotten at the core of House Cruciatu, but hadn't really been able to do anything about it... until now.

A fair number of Cruciatu officers in charge of their forces on Kirk's Generosity that weren't directly engaging one force or the other had a choice about which enemy to engage... and many of them decided to go after the rebelling slaves and civilians. For one thing they were less armed, armored and skilled then the invading space marines by a fair margin, but many of the officers had already come to the conclusion that the war was more or less over at this point and that all they could do now was take what petty vengeance they could on those weaker then them.

A shift imperial victory, but a lot of the civilians and slaves were slaughtered by the doomed Cruciatu slavers as well as vast stretches of land that had been destroyed and poisoned.

Imperial forces didn't even need to land on Kirk's Integrity. Once the food shipments were cut off the garrison was slain to the last and those prisoners and slaves on the mining world awaited liberation, reprisal or starvation.

The last stand of Kirk's Vigilance was a brutal affair; House Cruciatu and the Cruciatu Empire was doomed and their invaders were not inclined to accept peace terms or surrender from those who had willing submitted to be the vassals of an eldar kabal at the cost of countless human lives. The Cruciatu employed ever dark trick, every piece of eldar technology they were able to barter from their now absent 'allies' and every vile and inhumane ploy they could think of in an attempt to starve off their demise, but in the end it was in vain. Kirk's Vigilance was almost completely purged of its entire population.

Almost...

A number of the slaves on Kirk's Vigilance had been so broken by their masters that they had fought with a zealous zeal to defend their owners that it would have been respectable if it wasn't so inherently tragic. Others were forced to fight or at as meat shields less out of loyalty to their masters and more because explosive collars and other such devices are a thing. Others were just plain and simply unlucky. But there were survivors!

In the ruins of House Cruciatu's final baston, the Emperor of Mankind declared victory over the Cruciatu Empire and named Micholi lord of the Kirk system. While he would be going to Terra in order to receive a proper education in order to fulfill his role as a Primarch in the Crusade, the system would be his to do with as he wished within the bounds of Imperial Law. Micholi accepted the honor and before he left the system with the Emperor he made two public announcements system wide.

The first was as much a guideline for the temporary regent government the Emperor was putting in place to help rebuild the system after they departed for Terra as an announcement for his own people. "No more slavery. There will be no more slaves in the Kirk System."

The second was a promise. "For those who wish to stay here, I will welcome you as a citizen and all the rights that come with it. But for those of you who were taken your homes and wish to return there... please be patient. I give you my word that I will do what I can to find where your worlds are and to get you back there, but we need time to rebuild. Time to sort through the information banks where the slavers recorded what worlds they visited. Time to figure out where you originally came from and what state it is in now. So please... give us that time and be patient."

After setting up his mother as apart of the newly established House Vakarian and promising to return soon, Micholi 'Slaver bane' Vakarian departed for Terra alongside the Emperor.

Once he took over the Night Watch Legion, Micholi's part in the Crusade was largely a joint role of diplomat, manager and peace keeper. While he would personally lead his legion during major campaigns or operations that required a Primarch's touch in order to tip the scales towards success, Micholi trusted his sons to stand on their own two feet and make decisions on the ground.

Instead he tended to focus his efforts on the diplomatic side of things. Convincing a world to join the Imperium without having to commit military forces to the task was generally an ideal situation, but in those circumstances where the planet simply refused to bend the knee such diplomatic meetings allowed Micholi the chance to get an understanding of the world or system in question and thus give him first hand information about how to wage the coming war in such a way to prevent issues from arising again once it was brought into the fold.

His diplomatic efforts are also extended to his pet project of bringing xenos races into the Imperium. His standards for Xenos being allowed to live and work alongside humanity are high, but Micholi has managed to find a dozen or so races that have met the requirements and passed long term inspection. His two greatest finds were those of the Tur Hierarchy, who's military traditions as well as an understanding of loyalty and honor that mirrored humanities own allowed them to adjust fairly well to being a vassal state of the Imperium and the Leks of Ryloth, who proved highly thankful to the Imperium for offering their home world protection from slaver raids and whom provided highly effective regiments for the Imperial Army.

Diplomatic efforts were also focused within the Imperium, as well as without. Namely Micholi has made sure to try and cultivate relationships with various Imperial organizations. While a few of these are just to have good working relationship between them and his Legion, most of these efforts are more about trying to ease tensions that he knows that his views and efforts are causing to rise and at least ensure that a professional relationship is maintained. The divide between himself and the Cult Mechanicus is clearly there, but his willingness to reach out to them and find compromises which they can both agree on has at least eased things up enough that Mars doesn't plan to try and cleanse the Kirk system for tech heresy.

While Micholi has condemned a number of races to extinction, there has been one rather recently that has caused him to send a message requesting the Emperor come and visit him in the Kirk system in order to provide some guidance. When they first discovered the Laer race, they seemed to be a fairly reasonable xenos race and thus early diplomatic efforts and trials to judge them as a culture began. As a sign of good will, the Laer offered Micholi and two of his marines that were there with him a trio of swords of their own creation as a diplomatic gift.

The swords themselves were beautifully made and each was clearly a one of a kind design, but when they tested the blades they found them to be incredibly powerful. Stronger then most power swords and able to cleave through tank armor like a hot knife through butter, Micholi was impressed by the gift... but rather then keep his blade for himself, he sent it back to the Kirk system in order to be inspected and hopefully reversed engineered so that such blades could be created and supplied across the Imperium. His two marines opted to keep theirs.

After the blade had arrived in the Kirk system, one of the engineers inspecting the blade picked it up... and was immediately possessed by it, going completely insane and launching a killing spree of his co-workers, innocent bystanders, security personal and several Night Watch marines before he was finally killed himself. Now aware that something was horrifically wrong with the sword, it underwent ever test that the combined scientific minds of the Kirk system put together could think of... including having a psyker inspect it.

While the psyker in question had to be put down, before their sanity had been completely lost and they were overwhelmed they managed to discover and share enough information about what they had found out to revel the Laer's betrayal: They had somehow managed to pull one of the 'mindless' entities out of the warp and bind it to a physical vassal, which they had given to the Primarch to try and subvert him and enslave him (and to an extent his legion) to their will. The other two blades also had entities bound to them, through of a lesser strength... alas, by the time the discovery was made the Marines who possessed the blades were possessed by them in turn and were little more then puppets of the Laer when Micholi granted them a merciful death.

The Laer were wiped off the face of existence and their planet cleansed of all trace of them, but during the purge several other blades were found akin to the gifted trio... and while Micholi wanted nothing more then to be rid of them he didn't have the knowledge of how to safely dispose of them. So... he sent a message to the Emperor explaining the discovery and requested if he had any idea of how to destroy the things without causing disaster.

He is still waiting in the Kirk system for a response.

The Meeting:
Micholi raised a hand up, leaving his palm open so that he could silently just request a moment to collect himself. While he couldn't see his conversational companion directly due to having his eyes closed, the silence from the man before the sound of wooden creaking as he took a seat was more then enough of an answer as he took a deep breath and let it out.

It had been a couple of hours at least since they had both entered one of Micholi's war rooms. They were scattered all over the tunnel network of Reserve in order to allow him the flexibility to move around and set himself up wherever he had needed to be to command his war... and as spartan as it was, Micholi couldn't think of a better place to have this meeting. Of course, there was only one chair in the room that had been designed to support someone of his size and weight... and out of respect and politeness he had offered it to the Emperor while he remained standing back when they had started to talk.

There had been highs and low points to the conversation... but it had gotten heated when the subject of what was to happen with his people had been risen and voices had been raised. It hadn't been a shouting match per say, more along the lines of a topic that both of them had a passionate view on that neither of them were clearly going to back down from but were at least trying to be civil enough to actually listen and make proper counter points rather then just yelling the same point over and over again louder.

The silence that filled the air in the aftermath was refreshing in many ways. When Micholi started to speak, it was in a much calmer tone then before. "My Emperor... I understand where you are coming from. There are xenos races out there that are monsters by nature and need to be cleansed from existence. Believe me when I say I know for a fact that even if they aren't just actively hostile that tolerating their presence can turn a society of humans into something monstrous as well. We're in full agreement there."

"But I know for a fact that there are xenos out there that have the same values as we do. That just want their people to live in peace and prosperity without having to worry about slavers coming to abduct them and their children in the night. Races that can be convinced to join with humanity so that both can have a better tomorrow. I'm not saying that we should open the door and invite every Xenos race in, but killing them all outright just because they're not human isn't a good answer. We can both agree that there are better reasons to exterminate a species then that."

The silence that followed lasted a few moments. Micholi couldn't read the Emperor of Mankind; He didn't know what ideas were rolling in his head or what direction they were leaning towards, but at least the man was taking the time to actually think about something before speaking. Finally, an answer was given in the form of a question. "Hypothetical situation. Let's say I entertain your suggestion. We set up a series of inspections and tests and those xenos that pass are accepted into the Imperium as a client state that follows imperial law. If one of them betrays the Imperium and humanity, would you stand before me, your siblings and the rest of the Imperium and accept fault for all the humans who died because of it?"

Micholi was quiet and thoughtful at the question, glancing down at the earthen floor as he bowed his head in thought. For a moment he considered coming up with some intelligent rebuttal, but instead he decided to speak from the heart. "My Emperor, if a xenos race that I had allowed into the Imperium betrayed us after going through all the effort to earn our good faith... I would humbly request the chance to correct the mistake I had made and purge the traitorus xenos scum myself."

Legion Name:
The Night Watch

Legion Number:
II

Legion Strength:
Around 50,000 space marines.

Armour Appearance:


Warcry:
"Take the shot."

Dramatis Personae:
Captain 'Cheese Maker' Jackrum: Captain of the sixth company, forth brigade, forth division. Captain Jackrum is one of the greatest sharpshooters that the Night Watch has ever produced. He is not a man who leads from the front, instead preferring to set himself up in a position that overlooks the field of operation so as to better guide the squads under his command, but also to provide overwatch and sniper support to them directly as required.

The nickname 'Cheese Maker' is a reference to the man's patience when it comes to lining up a shot on a target. During a subjugation of a world rallied behind their religious leaders, Jackrum set himself up in a location overlooking where said leadership was going to gather for a ceremony a month before the ceremony so as to avoid the risk of being spotted moving into position by increased security closer to the day. He did not leave his position for the entire month to avoid detection... and when the time came he executed the head of the religion and the entire council below him on the hierarchy within a matter of seconds.

Colonal Wojtyla: One of the oldest marines to serve in the Night Watch (second only to the Generals themselves), Colonal Wojtyla of the fifth bridage, third division has been apart of the Great Crusade since the Imperium of Man only consisted of the parts of Terra under the command of the Emperor himself. He is also the first of the Night Watch to be encased within the confines of a Dreadnaunt.

Despite being classified as an assault tank, Colonal Wojtyla is still an effective commander who has planned and executed campaigns with his bridage with much less in the way of casulties then was originally predicted. Rumor has it that the Colonal is sloted for promotion once the second legion expands enough to have a sixth division and there is some evidence to support this.

General Nelinho: General Nelinho of the first Division is (with the expection of Primarch Micholi himself) the oldest member of the Night Watch legion. He was the first marine to be inducted into the second on Terra by the Emperor himself and has been a fixture within the Legion ever since. When the Imperium of Man and Mars were united by the Treaty of Mars, Nelinho was one of those whom volinteered to learn the secrets of the machine and spent a fair bit of the Sol campaign to take the outer systems on Mars itself, training to become one of the first tech marines.

Nelinho maintained his relationship with the Tech Priests of Mars long after his training on Mars was finished, the Mechanicus and the first division of the Night Watch working rather closely with each other over the course of the Crusade and maintaining a positive, healthy relationship with each other... a fact that has caused a great deal of strain between the first division and their Primarch.

Primarch Micholi's connections to xenos, his willingness to use their technology, the fact that he habours and shelters heretics of the Cult Mechanicus willing to research and work with alien technology and (worst of all) actively encourges the fusion of human and alien technology has resulted in a very poor relationship between the Primarch of the second legion and the tech priests of Mars. Despite his loyalty to the Night Watch, General Nelinho has made it publically clear that he intends for no xenos technology taint his division and cemented his alliance with the Cult Mechanicus.

Micholi's offering to Nelinho of the knight Light's Shield so that it could be properly repaired and a new pilot found so it could serve once again did go a ways to easing tensions between the two so that they can work together, but the two have come to an understanding that due to their conflicting beliefs that there are just some campaigns where the two of them shouldn't work together to avoid... problems.

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role:
As a space marine legion, the Night Watch can adept to just about any battlefield situation or employ whatever tactics that are required in the name of victory for the Imperium. However, the Legion values their lives, the lives of their allies and those of civilians in general and thus the tactics they prefer to use will either be designed to safe guard as many lives as possible... or at the very least avoid throwing them away or taking them recklessly.

The Night Watch favor gurella warfare, prefering the freedom to pick and choose what battles to engage in and when while denying their foes the chance to do the same. Denying the enemy a clear target to strike at also has its benefits since it makes setting up ambushes and feints much easier while forcing their enemy to have to spread their forces out to either try and find the Night Watch or to try and defend against them everywhere they can.

The Night Watch are at their strongest when fighting at either long range or at close quarters combat and it isn't strange for them to combine the two when engaging in battle.

The sniper teams of the legion are well respected and honored by their brothers, not just for their ability to provide life saving support in the field but also for their power to change the outcome of battles and wars with a minimum loss of life. The legion's inclincation towards close combat is surprising to some, but the decision is purely tactical on their part; While there are plenty of enemies in the universe who are as fast or faster then a marine, have equal or better reflexes then one, can match or overcome them in pure strength or even be better equipped, only a few are all of them at once. Close quarters combat is where a Marine has an overwhelming advantage against all by a handful of foes.

The role that Imperial Army forces play in the Night Watch's battle plans is that of mid range support; They generally serve as a means to pin down and force enemies into cover so that the Night Watch can close into melee range or provide covering fire when they are pulling out. However, they can also serve as bait to lure enemies into ambushes and traps (Granted, the Space Marines are willing to serve this role as well, but sometimes normal troops can bait the enemy out better).

Legion Characteristics/Ideology:
he Night Watch have a fairly clear command structure inspired somewhat by how the (admittingly lightly regulated) Imperial Army is organized.

10 Marines make a squad and is led by a Sergent.
10 squads make a company and is lead by a Captain.
10 companies make a brigade and is lead by a Colonel.
10 brigades make a division and is lead by a General.

Currently, there are only five divisions of Night Watch legionaries in existance. Each unit of men is commanded by an officer of suitable experience and rank who reports to the officer above them.

What makes the Night Watch somewhat different from most of the Imperial Army is that they are trained to operate in a decentralized manner due to the nature of warfare they like to employ. Each part of the chain has the freedom to plan and make tactical decisions based on their rank:

A general decides a system needs to be taken and assigns a brigade to take it.
The colonel desides on the plan to take the system and assigns his companies with their objectives.
The captain devises the plans to take the objectives, as well as adding sub objectives as required and giving them to his squads.
The sergent decides how their squad can best acheive their objectives and is free to respond to the changing nature of war and the battlefield as required.

Something that the Night Watch does that they keep underwraps however is the fact that there are always two officers in each unit. Two sergents per squad, two Captains per company, ect. Before operations begin, one will be classified as the active captain and the other as the passive one; During operations, the active captain has full command with the passive one being considered a sub-ordinant. In the event that the active officer is killed, wounded or is unable to lead, the passive officer can step in immeditaly and is 'promoted' on the spot.

The reason for this is if an officer is wounded or killed in the line of duty, there is someone with the exact same training and experience with that level of command to take over near instantly. Combined with the practice of having all ranks from grunt to general not having any outward signs of rank on their armor to prevent enemy forces from singling out leadership via sight alone, it creates the illusion to outsiders that the legion is so in sync that it doesn't need leaders to direct it.

The Night Watch are inspired by freedom fighters, gurella warriors and insergents who fight for just causes with as much morality as their enemy will allow them to use.

While the Night Watch as a whole will generally take advantage of some xenos technology or Human-Xenos hybird tech produced in the Kirk system, Legion policy is that any alien tech found in the field is to be treated like it's booby trapped and isn't to be messed with. Samples might be collected and sent back to Kirk for study, but picking up a random enemy weapon and trying to use it is a taboo.

Relationships:
Ever since Micholi took command of the Legion, the Night Watch has largely had a strained relationship with the Cult Mechanicus of Mars. The source of this strain is directly accounted to the fact that the Kirk system is, as far as the hard liners of Mars is concerned, a den of xenos tech heresy and a habour for heretek Tech Priests... which by all accounts, it kind of is. That said, Micholi does go out of his way to try and find middle ground with the followers of the Machine Cult; While he doesn't really need to because Primarch, he does so anyway to try and at least have a working professional relationship with Mars.

Any space faring Eldar encountered by the Night Watch are killed on sight. As far as Micholi and his legion are aware, all Eldar are the slavers who nip out of the Webway. They have yet to encounter an Exodite Eldar world through and the cultural differences between them and their dark cousins is enough that they might hold fire, if only to get a bit more information.

Name: Wolfram of Parrisan

Gender: Male

Homeworld: The Hive City World of Parrisan. Unlike other Hive Cities found on human worlds, the single megacity of Parrisan, known as the World-City, is a vast horizontal urban sprawl covering much of a world bearing terrain similar to 3rd Millennium-era Terra, opposed to the general design of enormous spire cities. The main source of conflict, strife, and danger came not from the world itself, but from the nearby locations in the void of space, for at the time of his arrival, Parrison was a minor spacefaring multi-world nation, bent on its own claims to undiscovered human worlds and technology.

Appearance: Wolfram is an outlandish individual among his sibling Primarchs, in that both he and the majority of his chapter share their nine foot height, though Wolfram himself bears a physical form far more reminiscent of a natural human in quality physical health and fitness, as opposed to his legionnaire offspring who were designed for combat first and foremost. Wolfram resembles the common flavors of ancient North Europe stock, fair skin and hair, with a brighter verdant green eye color. When it comes to the armored battle regalia of a Primarch, Wolfram is as much an outlier as he is physically, favoring a lighter suit of custom powered armor more resembling a souped-up suit of Astartes Scout armor rather than the standard large battle armor donned by the frontline fighters of the Imperium. He also bares a power sword resembling the depictions of the ancient Terran mythological sword Excalibur, a traditional English longsword with a golden rectangular crossguard and matching rounded pommel, with his sidearm being a Bolt Pistol that to the untrained eye would seem to match those carried by all other Astartes officers, but is carefully engraved with lines resembling the travel layout of the entire World-City of Parrisan.

Personality: Wolfram is quiet. Eerily quiet. He is the bookkeeper that stands just alongside the mob boss in his chair. The financier next to the CEO at a board meeting. The adviser who speaks only in whispers in the king's ear. The trusted first officer always at the side of the naval captain. In a galaxy of generals, statesmen, warmongers, tyrants, and heroes, Wolfram is the 'man behind the throne' often found throughout the history of mankind. As such, in meetings between his siblings, their father, and others of importance in the Imperial government and military, Wolfram is often the only attendant who almost never speaks, answering questions and making statements in the most direct way possible, with no fanfare or righteous anger. When he reports of conflict, everything is presented akin to statistics on a clipboard, or data in a spreadsheet. This often puts him at odds with those who see the Crusade as a righteous quest or a grandiose adventure. To Wolfram, it is not. It is war, and war is not heroic, it is cold and impersonal. And Wolfram knows that understanding this is vital to uniting the galaxy under human rule.

Skills: Some of his siblings are warrior-tacticians, champions who lead their armies into battle from the tip of the frontline. Others are statesmen and politicians, world builders who fight to preserve the conquest for the Imperium of the future. Wolfram is neither of these things. First and foremost he is a master of logistics and broad strategy, the movement and planning of an entire front, directing entire army groups across fronts spanning an entire continent, armadas patrolling an entire subsector. Though he carries arms and armor, they are not his true tools of battle. His weapon is the pen of a cartographer, his shield the map of a war theater, his armor the orders directing distribution of forces, supply, and relief. While his siblings win personal glory and bring back trophies and tales of their accomplishments, Wolfram simply brings statistical reports of worlds reclaimed, supplies and forces lost, assets captured, and future plans. The more intimate the fight becomes, the harder it becomes for Wolfram to comprehend. His mind is not build to lead a squad, a single division, or a system fleet. It is honed and trained to direct the men and women that do, to ensure they are able to operate at their peak in their chosen field of engagement. In times of politicking and social networking, empire-building and leadership, Wolfram is the man tracking public opinion and. He's the campaign manager to the man running for office. He abhors the public spotlight, as statistics and charts simply bore the common man, while a rousing speech can make parades out of the deaths of millions.

Assignment Grade: Kappa level, generally manifesting itself as a natural intuition or 'gut feeling' in how, when, and where to deploy assorted assets, units, and supplies. He has found that his seclusion of emotions tend to cause more intense manifestation of these 6th sense predictions, and he fear this is the herald of something more fierce to come.

Biography: The citizenry of Parrisan were one of the lucky human colony worlds that remained relatively unscathed by the fall of Pre-Imperium Humanity. Thus, when the incubation pod containing the lost Primarch crash-landed upon the world, near the center of the vast city, scientific and engineering research teams quickly arrived to investigate. Upon discovering the young Primarch, even their rudimentary(compared to the Imperium) equipment could see the vast power he carried. He was given to the Parrisanian government to be raised as a future head in the effort to rediscover nearby lost human colony worlds. Over time, both the young man dubbed Wolfram of Parrisan and his superiors and trainers saw that his mental intuition for force organization, supply line arrangement, and the broad front deployment of large-scale units was the only thing that rivaled his superhuman physique. In no time at all, the Parrisanian Star League expanded from a small pocket of three star systems to nearly the size of an entire modern Imperial Sub-Sector.

But with expansion comes conflict, and not all of it human. With the expansion of Parrisanian territory, the antiquated human war vessels came into contact with minor, yet devastating, Xenos races in several sections of their Rimward frontier. After a series of grueling campaigns in a multi-front war, and some expert maneuvering of forward fleets to keep the Xenos divided enough to prevent a united front. Ultimately, the war would be whittled down to the beleaguered Parrisanian Star League and the most prominent and successful Xenos force, known as the Lannoth. For much of the direct campaign against the Lannoth, even Wolfram's expert organization of the Parrisanian Armada could not prevent the front from steadily collapsing as their ships were forced to either pull back or win unstable Pyrrhic victories which would never last. The fortunes finally began to reverse when some of the most powerful vessels in the Lannoth fleets began to be withdrawn deep into their territoy, giving Wolfram the perfect opportunity to break through, overwhelming their forces in the confusion of what Wolfram's intelligence determined was the arrival of another Human force to the Xenos' opposing flank. Now caught in a two-front engagement, they would eventually collapse, with the two human forces with no prior contact finally meeting as they laid ground siege to the capital planet of the Xenos. The top commanding officer of the unknown Human forces made contact with the Parrisanian Star League, requesting a parlay between Wolfram and himself. Their smallest ships of the line were enough to obliterate even the most sophisticated of Parrisan's veseels, so the agreement was made almost immediately. The two met in orbit around the planet, via docking two shuttlecraft together in order to form a neutral meeting location. As soon as Wolfram met with the other force commander, he understood that it was not just their superior vessels that enabled this strange armada to annihilate the alien military. The man exuded an intense aura of awe and wonder, despite simply appearing as a simple human man garbed in the standard military officer's uniform of his accompanying staff officers. However, the man was clearly the most brilliant leader not just in his nation, but likely within the entire galaxy. This man made it clear that he was not just the officer in charge of this theater of his war, but the supreme leader of the entire nation he hailed from, the Imperium of Man, ruler of the ancient human homeworld of Terra. Wolfram was more than accustomed to dealing with pompous political leaders who made far more grandiose claims than this, as he had served under far too many of them in his extended superhuman life as the chief military official within Parrisan. But unlike the others, this man was far more than all talk. His stance, his walk, and his voice carried himself as everything he claimed to be, and more. A non-aggression agreement was made, with a further political discussion being planned after the mutual defeat of the last Xenos holdouts. The Emperor insisted on combining the ground forces of his Imperial Navy with the Parrisanian Star League Marines, so that Wolfram and himself could learn more about each others strategic acumen on the ground as well as in the void.

After the defeat of the Lennoth, The Emperor requested that Wolfram direct him to the Chancellor of the World-City, who was convinced to abdicate his position to Wolfram almost immediately. Upon questioning why the Emperor had desired this, he made it all clear to Wolfram of Parrisan. He was one of the Emperor's Sons, the 20 Primarchs created specifically to lead mankind's most elite forces, that had been scattered across the galaxy by villainous enemies of mankind many years ago, and he had been gathering them ever since, while also seeking to reunite the scattered worlds of humanity. He desired Wolfram to join him in this war, and after much internal deliberation, Wolfram agreed. To Wolfram, this was a way to help ensure the broader protection of not just the people of the Parrisan Star League, but other people both in similar and less beneficial situations across the galaxy.

When reunited with his Legion of Astartes warriors and their Imperial Army contingents, Wolfram set about redesigning their force organization to better suit their equipment. The Astartes divisions would serve as the steel bone structure to the softer, more mortal forces of the Army in ground combat, while Astartes space vessels would act as command ships for Imperial fleets under his command. One of the gifts accompanying his Legion was his own Imperial flagship vessel, which he christened the Astra Urba, or Star City, as a counterpart to the World-City of his adopted homeworld. In honor of the military force which he served with for years, his Legion would become dubbed the Imperial Star League, with the Parrisan Star League becoming the name of the Imperial Army units raised from his homeworld. In a bizarre decision that, like others, set Wolfram apart from his siblings, he made the executive decision to supply and recruit for the Imperial Star League as he had done with his former forces, by operating entirely from aboard voidships and drawing supplies and recruits for both the Army and the Astartes from Compliant worlds. The Astra Urba would operate as the primary field command center for controlling the entire front of his legion. With this, much of Wolfram's actions in the subsequent crusade would see his entire Legion and their contingents operating in the same broad front, battling the same enemy in the same theater of war, overseen in the broadest strokes by the Primarch and carried down the chain of command. As such, Wolfram does not tell stories of scaling enemy supercannons or dueling Ork warbosses in a multi-hour hand to hand battle. Instead he simply provides progress reports on his divisions, offers and asks for suggestion future courses of action, and confers with his siblings and father on how to manipulate his theater to assist the others.

This leaves Wolfram himself feeling much more at home with his cadre of Legionnaire staff officers and their Imperial Army counterparts, as they operate much in the same fashion, while subsequently isolated from many of the only beings that near him as an equal in any fashion. But there is a time for heroics in war, and a time for efficiency. It is better to leave the charges and speeches to those properly suited for it, while those with the mind for high-level command at the back where they can direct the wider-scale engagement.

The Meeting: The Parrisanian shuttle locked docking walkways with its far larger counterpart from the unknown fleet that had aided them against the aliens. The moment the vessels locked into place, Wolfram felt...small. Not just physically, but mentally, as though someone aboard the other vessel was watching him directly. Stepping into the airlock doorway as it hissed open in time with its counterpart on the other ship, this ethereal pressure grew more and more immense upon his mind. As they were directed through the halls by armed men far better equipped than the Parrisan Star League Marines. They escorted Wolfram and his small cadre of general staff officers to the bridge of the far more expansive shuttlecraft, inside which stood a trio of men, one of which simply radiated with the mental weight Wolfram had felt. This man is the one that addressed him.

The man in question assumed, correctly, that Wolfram was the head commander of his people's forces, not just in the war with these aliens, but in all matters of conflict. Knowing this seemed to please the man, who smiled warmly. The man then gestured for the Wolfram's comrades to be escorted back to their shuttle as the strange man asked to speak to him alone. Wolfram listened intently as the man explained his origins as the ruler of the ancient Human homeworld of Terra, and the founder of the Imperium of Man, a spacefaring nation desiring to reunite all of humanity and defend them from aliens and those who choose not to join with them. Having seen firsthand the damage alien forces can do to unprepared human settlements and colonies, Wolfram knew that the best way to defend both his people and others like them would be to serve this Emperor of Man.

As a test of his true might as a military leader, the Emperor asked that the two nations combine their ground forces, attacking the enemy on the planet from the same reinforced front. This plan worked brilliantly, the grand strategy plans devised by the two saw the planet's critical centers overrun in a matter of 2 Solar days. Impressed with what he had been shown from Wolfram, the Emperor of man offered him the deal of non-aggression between their powers if he agreed to escort the Emperor to the ruler of his people. Wolfram humbly agreed, and the Parrisan Star League fleet escorted the Emperor's vessel to the World-City.

Upon arriving at the planet, the Emperor requested a private meeting with the Chancellor of Parrisan, and within a single local hour, the entire nation had been abdicated to the rule of Wolfram of Parrisan, on the condition he himself swear fealty to the Emperor and Imperium, and agree to serve alongside his forces in the crusade to unite and defend Humanity. Wolfram agreed by silently kneeling down before the Emperor, who ordered him to rise and ushered him aboard his vessel, ferrying him to Terra immediately to unite him with his future Legion.

Legion Name: Formerly dubbed by the Emperor as the Steel Angels, They were quickly renamed to the Imperial Star League by their Primarch as an homage to the original force he led, and their status as an extension of the Imperial Army and garrison forces from that world.

Legion Number: IV

Legion Strength: 100,000 Astartes

Armour Appearance:

Warcry: "For All Mankind!"

Dramatis Personae: The primary top members within the legion form what Primarch Wolfram refers to as his 'Star League General Staff', a tradition carried from the original Parrisan Star League. They consist of the single most skilled and senior officer or representative from each of the following Legion-affiliate organizations: The Astartes Ground Forces, Astartes Naval Forces, Imperial Army Ground Forces, and Imperial Army Naval Forces. They are as follows.

Marine General Germaine Varr: The top officer in command of the 4th Legion's Astartes ground divisions, and one that has been with the Legion longer than its own Primarch. He served as the Legion Master in the years before Wolfram's discovery, and thus has the most understanding of the Legion's force capabilities out of every member of the General Staff. He will not hesitate to cite this personal experience when recommending a different course of action to the Primarch, and often Wolfram will at least partially incorporate his suggestions every single time.

Marine Admiral Bethar Andaris:Easily the most experienced naval strategist bar the Primarch himself, and once a mortal serving alongside Wolfram as the Star Admiral of the Parrisan Star League Navy. Much like Wolfram himself, the man excels far more as a strategic mind at the bridge of an operation's flagship than leading the ground battle, despite being a proper Astartes. He's easily Wolfram's most trusted adviser and comrade, and would likely take his place as a new Legion Master should the Primarch have to leave the Legion for an extended period.

Imperial General Ophiel Santar: Germaine's mortal counterpart, and the best infantry senior officer the 4th Legion could get its hands on. During his service as a commissioned member of the Imperial Army, he's been shuffled around between Legion attachments to gather experience in commanding such large troop deployments, before eventually finding a permanent home as the head of the Imperial Army's ground attachment to the Star League. He's heavily focused on cooperation with Germaine, as the Legion's tactics involve the Astartes ground forces to serve as the solid frame the Army divisions are formed up around. He frequently doesn't have much to add to staff meetings himself, preferring to bring reports and defer to the wisdom of the ageless Astartes and their Primarch.

Imperial Admiral Michael Kyrax: Originally the Imperial Naval Liason aboard Bethar's flagship, when Bethar was elevated to the General Staff upon its formalized creation, Michael came with him. Where Bethar is the aggressive spearhead of the Star League's fleet battleplans, Michael is the tempered shield, ensuring the battlegroups do not advance too far to stretch the supply lines or risk being cut off without their screening support. He's renowned in both the Imperial and Astartes ranks as one of the few mortals who can talk down a Space Marine from the peak of their temper.

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role: When the Legion deploys, it is always in a mix of Marine and Imperial forces. Marine Divisions or Naval vessels are used as firm puncturing formations to pierce the opposing front while being screened in its advance by heavy Imperial ground and Naval forces respectively. Astartes and Imperial ground forces both deploy as Heavy Mechanized Infantry, utilizing heavily armed and armored infantry fighting vehicles supported with heavy tanks and self-propelled artillery. In naval engagements, the Astartes vessels are heavy battleships designed solely to fight ship-to-ship, with the Imperial screens meant to provide voidfighter cover and longer-range anti-armor fire. Airfighters are used to deny enemy air superiority when it is an issue, but are otherwise dedicated to bombing strategic military targets prior to an advance from the Legion's lines. Orbital strikes and other 'superweapon' attacks are frowned upon unless it is assumed the world cannot be reclaimed, then all possible assets and personnel are withdrawn and the entire naval presence in orbit commences bombardment.

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: When a world has reached acceptable levels of Compliance or is otherwise garrisoned by members of the legion, every member capable of doing so actively assists in reconstruction and relief efforts. A Marine in the legion can transition from firing on rebelling militias to helping the survivors of an airbombing rebuild their homes at a moments notice. The founding philosophy of the Legion is that of the belief that if they do not help the victims of war, then no one will, and that the latter is an unacceptable failure of the Imperium's duty to defend humanity.

Relationships: Because the Star League heavily integrate ground and space forces from the Imperial Army into their regular combat formations, many in their legion detachments and even those having temporarily served with them in command have come to view them as more "like the grunts" than expected, and casual conversations between Marines and Imperial Army personnel stationed together is very common. Given their penchant for recruiting and training reinforcements from worlds being garrisoned before they depart, many of the Astartes and Army members within the Legion come from a largely diverse set of cultural and ethnic backgrounds, giving the 'camp culture' on both their vessels and on-planet a distinct variety and uniqueness. Their reliance on heavy usage of space travel means they have many contacts and connections with the Navigator families and the Astra Telepathica as well.

Name: Iniephor The Scholar

Gender: Male

Homeworld: The world of Knosson was perhaps one of the most ideal areas for Iniephor to find himself on. A vast world that had been colonised and recolonised no less than four times, it was perhaps not quite a death world but certainly desired to be one. The surface of the planet was fragmented and riddled with asteroid impacts, the tectonic plates wild and crashing, and all manner of strange creatures inhabited and had inhabited the planet's surface. Despite this however, the people that lived on the planet thrived, in large part due to the huge protective domes that were built around major cities.

Knosson surface however was just the beginning. Although brutal warp storms besieged the solar system and made travel in and out of the system impossible, the planets within the system had all seen some measure of human activity. Knosson's twin moons of Minos and Phaistos showed now-destroyed settlements, and across the entire solar system there was the indelible ink of intelligent activities.

Appearance: Iniephor's appearance is as malleable as clay is to a sculptor, but all his forms have one thing in common; a pair of curling horns that start just above his temples and end in line with his jaws. Because of this, Iniephor rarely shows his hair, his head normally covered with a wide hood that conceals the one part of his inhumanity. Despite the malleability of his form however, Iniephor normally chooses a fairly reasonable shape, at least for a primarch. Iniephor's standard appearance measures around twelve-foot-tall in total, with burnished bronze-brown skin and a shaggy mane of brown hair, the ends lightening to a pleasant blond.

In terms of dress, Iniephor is loath to don his proper armour. Instead, he much prefers his academic's wear, garb similar to that of what scholars and philosophers have traditionally worn on Knosson for generations. Besides the vast hood he also wears a loose- fitting sleeveless chiton for warmer climates or a sleeved tunic for cooler ones, tight-fitting yet tough wearing trousers and, in very cold climates, a heavy cloak.

Personality: Iniephor is a strange sort of individual. Studious, yet rarely found in a library, adventurous yet spending most of his time studying he is simultaneously one of the greatest scholars possible and the worse student. Apart from these contradictions, Iniephor shares much with his father. Relentlessly proud of his psychic potential, he revels in opportunities to use it and to explore the limits of his power.

In addition, he has a fascination with human nature and evolution. Firmly believing that humanity must become psychic or perish (something he unknowingly shares with his father, although his outlook is more extreme) his moral compass can oftentimes dip into some severely questionable areas, something he has few qualms about.

Skills: Iniephor's excessive psychic power renders him with no small variety of interesting and unique skills. Besides the ability to reshape large aspects of his physique, he is a master in almost all of the recognised Imperial disciplines, the exception being divination, a field which requires him to take significantly more steps before he can truly see things that have not occurred yet.

Outside of his psychic power, Iniephor is also superlatively intelligent, hence his moniker of 'the scholar.' An accomplished academic and writer, his books on the nature of the vast sea and its pelagic currents are the seminal works on these subjects- literature which no librarius could do without. Besides warp studies, he is also accomplished in natural and unnatural sciences, languages (having studied Eldar and Orkish, as well as another, more ancient language that he does not know the origin of) and far, far more.

Assignment Grade: Alpha-Plus. Iniephor's active psychic power is second only to that of the Emperor himself, and he has the mental fortitude to bear witness to this. Iniephor's feats when his mind was still developing surpassed that of the few 'magicians' that lived in Knosson, and his fully grown and well-curated mind surpasses those of his brothers with an almost contemptuous ease

Biography: Iniephor would arrive on Knossos in some of the worst conditions the planet had ever experience. His cradle fell into the ocean, swept along by roaring storms and beating waves. Thrust out of the sea, he was found by an astonished fisherman and quickly taken back to land, where he was cared for by his wife for a number of days. His extraordinary growth and the horns that rapidly started jutting from his head would draw the attention of Knosson's 'magicians' and it took very little psychic knowledge to recognise the prodigious power contained within his mind.

Taken to the palace at age three (now fully grown) Iniephor would astonish the ruling family with his still fairly nascent psychic powers. Taken in as an advisor and good luck symbol, he would study under the court's finest psychic powers, only to surpass and exceed them in every way within the year. None on Knosson could match his keen mind, and so it was that by age five he was already considered to be the greatest mind Knosson had ever seen.

Leading digs and research missions across the planet, he would quickly find out that his people were not the first, nor were they the only ones. Digs on Minos showed evidence of great battles, and when he set foot on Phaistos, he encountered xenos for the first time. As he and his men established a research camp, they were approached by mysterious, slender humanoids who had monitored the tomb world that the primarch had unwittingly landed upon.

The farseer of the eldar- for, indeed, that was what they were, sensed the psychic power radiating from Iniephor. Unsure of exactly what he was witnessing, but realising the impact the young man would have on the galaxy at large, the eldar would only give a warning before melting back into the shadows, leaving the young man confused, yet intrigued.

By the time that the Emperor made planetfall, Iniephor had long since been crowned Scholar-Emperor of Knosson and the newly reclaimed Minos. Although not understanding the true significance of what lay beneath Phaistos, he had heeded the words of the strange figures he had spoken to so long ago and had left it alone, instead focusing on turning Knosson and Minos into a relative paradise. Great domes and walls held the unnatural weather at bay, whilst psychic tuning relays soothed the minds of newly born psykers, who would be taken to great universities to train and educate in the ways of the Vast Sea.

Legion Name: The Lantern Bearers (Formerly Aeon Scribes)

Legion Number: I

Legion Strength: Around eighty-five thousand astartes. This makes the Lantern Bearers a small legion, but the psychic potential of an unusally large proportion of its recruits more than makes up for this flaw.

Armour Appearance:


The Lantern Bearer's chapter symbol is a holdover from before Iniephor's time, to when they were named the Aeon Scribes. It displays a feathered quill alongside a sword, and many have noticed that it bears no small semblance to an eagle's wing and claw grasping a sword, drawing comparisons to the Aquila. Why the original design is the way it is is unknown, even to Iniephor.

Warcry:

• THROUGH KNOWLEDGE, POWER!
• FACITA MEMORIA! (High Gothic, lit 'Become A Memory')
• STRIKE THEM INTO THE RECORDS!
• FOR INIEPHOR!

Dramatis Personae:
Diomedies Meldetires: One of Iniephor's close friends from his time as Emperor of Knosson. His Malcador, a man who was made a space marine almost too late, and serves as advisor and librarian, although not as a combatant.

Megistias Elloren: Chief Librarian of the Lantern Bearers. Flighty, capricious, but a highly capable divinator, intensely passionate researcher and one of the only people to ever be able to ask Iniephor a question he had to mull over.

Ajax Demtrion: Known as the "Butcher of Bulmeros." A freakishly strong, even for an astartes, individual, he is the Lord Executioner of the Lantern Bearers. His psychic powers are very much power over finess- he can squash a man like a bug with his mind, but gently placing something down would be difficult for him. One of the few people in the entire legion Iniephor does not like but still holds a significant role.

Favoured Tactics/Battlefield Role: The Lantern Bearers are a force that is easy to underestimate. Rarely coming together in great numbers, they instead tend to act as Iniephor's personal expedition assistants most of the time. It is only when Iniephor's ire is roused enough to fully commit to an assault does their full power become clear.

Most individual members of the Lantern Bearers share in some level of psychic potential (and Iniephor's gene seed is noted to awaken psychic potential in those that might otherwise never realise it.) Through careful training, the legion has learned to pool together their psychic might, creating a gestalt field of energy that can be tapped into by those among them powerful enough to manipulate it outwards. This is particularly obvious when the first chapter takes to the field.

Even when not utilising storms of psychic power offensively, they can still cut a bloody swath through their foes. Precogniscents and biomancers dodge and weather fire superlatively, allowing for marines to march through a tornado of steel and take very few losses. When they emerge at the other end, an overwhelming deluge of returning fire coming from storm bolters, witchfire and promethium, annihilating enemy positions rapidly and efficiently, the ends of their foes meticulously noted down in the annals of the chapter's history.

Even in melee combat, the lantern bearers are no slouches. Force weapons are a common sight amongst the legion, Lantern Bearers generally choosing hammers and staves which smash through armour and bone as if they consisted of Styrofoam.

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: The Lantern Bearers are, first and foremost, researchers and archaeologists, much like Iniephor himself. They meticulously and studiously study all manner of subjects, from mundane pottery to the depths of the human mind, uncovering the past of humanity to hopefully plot the future. Because of this, almost every Lantern Bearer march into battle searching for more to curate and add to their history- the chapter also has a truly prodigious amount of remembrancers amidst their numbers, all of whom are respected just as much as the chapter serfs are.

When it comes to planetfall, the Lantern Bearers tend to set up rather organised societies. Planets touched by the Lantern Bearers are fairly easy to recognise, as the legion has the tendency to organise things similarly to their homeworld of Knossos, with administrative functions centred in 'castles' which the rest of the cities are centred around.

Relationships: The Lantern Bearers are perhaps the most interesting when it comes to their interactions outside of the legion. Despite showing none of the typical traits which would endear the mechanicus to them, they have nonetheless earned the respect of the Cult of Mars through Iniephor's constant tendencies to unearth all manner of tech and STCs through his incessant rummaging across the galaxy. Because of this (and aforementioned rummaging) they boast a somewhat more varied arsenal than might be expected of them, with a not-insignificant amount of artificer armour counted in their ranks.

When it comes to warp denizens, the Lantern Bearers have already been noticed. Of course, they would- Iniephor's mind shines almost as bright as the Emperor's, and when they pool their psychic power they create a beacon so powerful that it could blind an unprepared daemon. Many of the legion have unwittingly wrestled with these foes, although it is the Lords of Change who have taken particular interest in meddling with the First Legion. If this will materialise into something more sinister remains to be seen.

The Lantern Bearers, as the name suggests, often operate on the uncharted edges of the Imperium. Even for the Great Crusade they tend to roam farther and delve deeper into worlds. Because of this, they are oftentimes the first interactions once-cut off worlds have with the Imperium at large. Their ordered nature, psychic powers and highly stylised armour means that they're often mistaken as akin to gods, something which they rectify as quickly as possible. The Lantern Bearers do not leave behind feral worlds.

Lastly, the legion's relation with their father- not Iniephor, but the Emperor itself, is built on shaky foundations. The Emperor's desire to control psychic humanity and anathemic attitude to religion puts him at odds with the often spiritualistic Lantern Bearers, who view their gifts as something to be cherished and shared, not fiercly denied. Although Iniephor would be rightfully horrified at the touch of chaos, going renegade would not be out of the question.

Name: Atherel Voidgift

Gender: Male

Homeworld: While the other Primarchs found themselves on various planets, Atherel's pod found itself in the Scepteri System. Decimated eons ago during the war in heaven, all that remained of the system was an aging red giant star, multiple asteroid belts and most notably, an ancient derelict xenos star fortress of colossal proportions. More importantly, burried within the star fortress was a malfunctioning warp beacon. (akin to the Astronomican or Pharos device) While the beacon's signal was overpowering within the system itself, (preventing Navigators from seeing out of the system) the nature of it's malfunction caused the beacon's signal to rapidly decay over longer distances.

With the passing decades, ships would occasionally be drawn into the system, only to be trapped by the by the malfunctioning warp beacon. And so, the Scepteri System became the prison of it's unsuspecting visitors. The trapped survivors came from all walks of life and races; Rogue Traders, Ork warbands, Aeldari Corsairs, to name but a few. Over time ramshackle space stations were built out of the trapped starships, most often in close proximity to the star fortress as it was the best source of new supplies.

This was the "world" that Atherel found himself in.

Appearance: Thin by Primarch standards, Atherel has a lithe and willowy figure; appearing positively waifish when compared to his bulkier siblings. At eleven feet tall, Atherel cuts a towering and elegant individual, as sleek as he is powerful.

Personality: Atherel is a bizarrely mercurial mix of ruthlessly cold-blooded pragmatism, an almost naive sense of optimism & curiosity and a flamboyant joy for living in the moment. To him, protecting humanity, and by extension the strengths of humanity, are paramount. Still, between his hyper intellectualism and what passed for a 'childhood', he more than understands the necessity of sacrifice. In light of his conversations with the Emperor, Atherel accepts that he exists to serve as a grand cog in the machine, but takes pride in the importance of his role. He refers to the Emperor as "Father", though this is purely an honorific to his creator rather than anything of a traditional child-parent relationship.

In regards to Xenos & Psykers, Atherel approaches both with his signature pragmatism; Employ those who are willing to serve and eliminate those who prove to be a threat. On the Imperial Truth, Atherel is torn; On one hand, he wholeheartedly agrees with it's emphasis on reason, science & logic. On the other, he finds the idea of human superiority to be silly, irrational and at odds with the rest of the Imperial Truth's tenets.

Skills: Like his Legion, Atherel is a master of 3-dimensional aerial and 0-gee void combat. As such he is best in the tight confines of a boarding action or the open void of dogfights. However, more than anything, Atherel is quick-witted jack of all trades thanks to growing up in worn out old space stations where it was a requirement just to survive.

In addition, he is quite the linguist as he is fluent in well over a dozen tongues on account of the diversity of the star system he grew up in. It should also be of note that Atherel is something of a diplomat as he can have a rather manipulative way with words. Whenever a new xenos race or lost human colony is discovered by the Primarch, diplomacy is almost always the first response.

Wargear: Atherel has a sleek suit of masterfully wrought artificer armor equipped with a multitude of micro-thrusters for maneuvering in 0-gee and enhancing his movement in gravity. He wears a trimmed-down jump pack free of any superfluous ornamentation. The device in question also bears two other unique systems.

First, buried next to the jump packs reactor is a truly ancient archeo-tech anti-grav device that can render Atherel and his equipment nearly weightless inside normal gravity. Second is a turreted, short-barreled, multi-laser. In addition to scything down light infantry, this weapon is purpose built for anti-missile point defense thanks to it's unique machine spirit which bears an advanced target acquisition system.

For weapons, Atherel has the following:
- First Light: A trimmed down and souped-up lascannon that has been repurposed as an anti-material rifle.
- Hullbreaker: A hand-and-a-half power axe with a meta-gun running down the back of the haft.
- Bulwark: A massive tower shield purpose built for boarding actions. Has mag-locks along the edges so it can be emplaced as semi-mobile cover. Has storage mount points for both First Light & Hullbreaker.
- Silence: A scimitar-esque exotic Aeldari force-edged weapon that is little more than a long knife in Atherel's hands. The blade itself is jet black in appearance and when activated is lit up with noiseless white lightning. He has had this since before his recovery by the Great Crusade, though whether it was a gift from a fellow survivor or a trophy from a fallen foe, the Primarch has yet to say.

Assignment Grade: Iota: Atherel has low level telekinetics allowing him to move or exert force on anything within a few feet of himself. Typically used on himself for increased mobility or his opponents to throw off their attacks.

Biography: Atherel's pod was discovered by a mining and salvage crew. Comprised mostly of Humans and Abhumans, there were also a few Aeldari and a smattering of the less disagreeable space-faring races. Like his fellow Primarchs, Atherel grew up quickly, outpacing his teachers on anything he was taught in a matter of years. As such, Atherel quickly became a master pilot, void combatant and explorer, to name just some of his talents.

By the age of 10, he was the new unofficial captain of the crew, though he would frequently leave Michael Calix, his adoptive father figure and the former captain, in charge while he would venture out on solo expeditions into the star fortress for new supplies. By 15, Atherel had gathered multiple crews to his name, making him one of the most powerful and well known individuals in the system.

A few years later an Ork WAAAGH found itself pulled into the Scepteri System. Relatively small by WAAAGH! standards, it was still large enough to pose a significant threat to the systems other inhabitants; especially once the WAAAGH! had absorbed all of the various small Ork warbands wandering about the system. Atherel immediately understood the threat they represented and quickly rallied the system's disparate factions under one banner in the name of survival. Even so, the WAAAGH! still outnumbered the united survivors 2 to 1.

The next several weeks would prove to be a grueling hell as Atherel prosecuted a a hit and run war against the Ork WAAAGH. Where Atherel led, the alliance would win, outmaneuvering, isolating and eliminating the Orks one piece at a time. But the Primarch couldn't be everywhere at once, and so slowly but surely the alliance began to lose a war of attrition. In an act of desperation, Atherel baited the Ork Warboss into chasing him into the star fortress, a hostile environment that he knew well from years of exploring.

Unbeknownst to the Primarch and his crew as they fought the Ork Warboss and his bodyguard within the otherworldly environment of the star fortress, a new arrival had joined the space battle outside. The Emperor had arrived at the head of the Great Crusade. Trapped between two fleets and now massively outnumbered, the Ork WAAAGH! was annihilated in short order. Knowing that only a Primarch could have the charisma to unite so a disparate group, the Emperor sought out the leader of the alliance. By the time he and his Custodes made it into the star fortress, the battle inside was already over. There, the Emperor found the Warboss & his boys slain and Atherel surveying the aftermath of the battle.

On an instinctive level, Atherel immediately knew who the towering golden figure that stood before him was, but lacked the knowledge to put that feeling into words; as such "Who are you?" were the first words the Seventh Primarch spoke to the Emperor of Mankind. As the conversation began, Atherel took no initial interest in superfluous speech. Upon establishing who the Emperor was, Atherel first saw to the immediate needs of his crew, then the status of the forces he had mustered before letting the conversation flow naturally.

The Meeting: In the wake of the battle, the fortress lay quiet. Stepping around the still twitching corpse of the Ork Warboss, Atherel took in the aftermath. Even with the best fighters from the other factions rallied to his side, the cost of victory had been a brutal one. The blood and ichor of nearly a dozen different species lay splattered across the floor.

An insectoid Nix from the House of Blades with two of it's six legs missing and a crude Ork choppa still stuck in the back chitin of their thorax tended to the shredded arm of a Demiurgan brawler from Atherel's own. Across the room, a Tarellian from the War Dogs bandaged up a human compatriot of theirs. Elsewhere still, mercy kills were offered to the mortally wounded & dying as there would still be a dangerous trip back up through the fortress.

Picking his way through the mess, Atherel made his way over Fanai Eldrion, a former Craftworld Farseer. "We may have won the battle in here but how fares the war outside?" The Primarch asked his crewmate and former teacher, the Aeldari barely coming up his waist. Removing his helmet, Fanai looked up, offering a tired smile. Decades spent living in close proximity to humans and other races had worn off the former Craftworlder's hard edges. "Better than ours. A near total victory in fact. A golden armada arrived from out of system less than an hour ago and crushed the greenskin fleet from behind. Forces of theirs have entered the fortress and are heading towards us as we speak. Friends of yours, I believe."

Eyebrow arched, Atherel offered Fanai a quizzical look and began to ask for clarification only to be cut off by the echoing of heavily armored footfalls. All around the cavernous room, battle-weary fighters checked their weapons and readied for yet another fight. As the unknown force approached the chamber, a golden glow preceded them; reflecting down the alien hallways of the fortress. Finally coming into view, a quiet collective gasp passed through the survivors. Clad in impossibly ornate golden armor and adorned with resplendent capes & crests, the new arrivals towered over everyone but Atherel himself, though they were still twice as broad in the shoulders.

For this section, you’ll RP out how your Primarch met up with the Emperor, and the events surrounding that. The Meeting should be written as though it were a proper RP post, and as such at least two or three high-quality paragraphs should be put to paper. Please do not write from the Emperor's perspective at any point - though, given that he presents himself more or less however the beholder wishes to view him, you may retain the freedom to characterize him as you feel is most appropriate for the situation.

Legion Name: Astral Hawks

Legion Number: VII

Armour Appearance:

Warcrys:
- "Fly fast, fly true." (in a multitude of variations)
- "May the Emperors light guide our wings."

Legion Strength: Approximately 94,500. The Legion contains 27 fleets. Every 3 fleets forms a battlegroup and 3 battlegroups form an armada. Typically, only the 1st-9th fleets are formed into an armada under Atherel's direct command. In turn, the 10th-18th fleets are usually assembled into 3 battlegroups and attached to other Legions as naval/aerial specialists. And finally the 19th-27th fleets are regularly operating on individual assignment throughout the Imperium.
- The 1st-243rd regiments of the Falconaire Auxilia: The dedicated auxiliary support forces of the Astral Hawks. Each regiment includes both naval & ground forces. As Atherel supports the Edict of Tolerance, there are a smattering of sanctioned Xenos within the Auxilia. Depending on the regiment, about 1/10th to 1/100th of each is comprised of sanctioned Xenos, though most are around the 1/70th mark. Each fleet of the Astral Hawks is accompanied by 9 regiments and is further broken down with 3 regiments to each Wing. 1,200,000+ effectives.

Legion Leadership/Organization:
The Astral Hawks differ strongly from their fellow Legions as they are fleet based. Broken up by fleet instead of chapter, each Fleet is led by an Admiral. Each fleet is divided into 3 wings; Command, Support and Vanguard. While each Wing is led by a Wing Commander, the different wings very somewhat in composition. Within each wing are 3 companies each led by a Company Commander. Each company is comprised of multiple platoons or lances each led by a Lieutenant or Lance Captain respectively. In turn, the platoons are made up of several squads or squadrons with a Sergeant in charge of each.


All told, once you factor in the additional Astartes in auxiliary support roles (techmarine pilots, ship-board section sub-commaders, reserves, etc.) Each fleet has around 3500 Astartes each. Also, each Wing of an Astral Hawks fleet is supported by an escort of 9 frigates of various classes; a total of 27 per fleet.

Dramatis Personae:
- The Void Guard: Atherel's personal bodyguard. Equipped with artificer armor, jump packs and storm shields. For weapons, they typically carry power weapons and volkite calivers or plasma guns.

- The Second Wing: An informal/unofficial group that forms Atherel's personal inner circle. Mostly consists of the surviving members of his "family" that he grew up with, though there are some new members from the Terra-born and crusade-recruited Astartes.

- Michael Calix, first Archangel: An older man, Michael took it upon himself to serve as a father figure to Atherel when the Primarch was discovered as a baby. It was Michael who taught Atherel the basics of flying and instilled the Primarch with his sense of curiosity and love of space. In the final battle against the Ork WAAAGH!, Michael was gravely injured and had to undergo heavy cybernetic augmentation. At Atherel's behest, the Primarch had his Techmarines create a custom Xiphon Interceptor that his adopted father could directly plug into via his cybernetics. Since then Micheal has served as the Primarch's Wingman and trusted confidant.

- Rafael Acastian, High Admiral of the Astral Hawks: Formerly the Legion Master before the Primarchs arrival, Rafael now serves as Atherel's right hand and immediate second in command. When one directly takes to the field, the other will remain back in a command support role. Rafael's wargear includes a suit of artificer armor, iron halo, jump pack, volkite caliver and a vaunted relic blade from the golden age of mankind.

- Nereus Belian, Chief Vox-Master of the Astral Hawks: Dubbed "The Third Wing" for his nearly peerless skills as a void combat strategist & tactician, Nereus spent a few decades honing his skills in the first battlegroup attached to The Imperial Star League. Most notably having served as a void specialist attache within Wolfram's inner circle, often working in close tandem with Marine Admiral Bethar Andaris and Imperial Admiral Michael Kyrax. On the occasions when Nereus is actually on the front lines, his wargear consists of a suit of artificer armor, a specialized jump pack featuring a complex communications array, master-crafted plasma pistol and a short-bladed power sword.

- Erasmus Moriar, Chief Apothecary of the Astral Hawks: Erasmus is a broken man, though it rarely shows through his various facades and there are fewer still who know him well enough to have seen it. Before his ascension to Chief Apothecary, Erasmus was part of the third battlegroup attached to the Daughters of Iron during the Rangdan Xenocides. Between the sheer psychological trauma of constant deployment to perhaps the most brutal frontline in the entirety of the Great Crusade and helping the DoI recover the geneseed from one fallen sister after another; something in Erasmus finally snapped. The Apothecary began to throw himself onto battlefield like a man possessed, fighting to bring as many of his brothers & sisters back alive as he could.
Such recklessness had it's costs. Frequently sustaining grievous injuries, the warrior medic is now ironically more machine than man. Having spent the majority of Rangdan Xenocides on the frontlines with the DoI, Erasmus has become a quietly agnostic follower of Kayaamat's Universal Creed; dedication to The Good Path perhaps being his only remaining anchor to sanity. For wargear, Erasmus has the following: A suit of artificer armor, his medicae tools, jump pack, volkite serpenta and a custom-built master-crafted chainsword; Tears of Iron.

- Orros Markov, Chief Forge-Master of the Astral Hawks: Orros was given his position for both his skill as a techmarine and his open-mindedness in the face of the Adeptus Mechanicus' dogmatic practices. As a member of the first armada, Orros has regularly deployed alongside & worked with the Night Watch. When the opportunity presented itself, he took a nearly year long round trip to The Reserve in order to get a closer look at their joint Xenos-Imperium R&D department. Orros is also responsible for the majority of the Void Falcon's experimental systems and general maintenance. For wargear, he surprisingly sticks with the standardized arsenal of a techmarine; arificer armor, ceremonial power axe and a servo-harness. That said, his equipment does bear a number of subtle modifications which more traditional members of the Cult Mechanicus would not approve of.

- Lorenso Astathor, Chief Librarian of the Astral Hawks: A former member of the second battlegroup attached to the Lantern Bearers for cross-training, Lorenso eccentric, even for an Astartes. He bears both Atherel's mercurial nature through his geneseed, as well as many of the various quirks of Iniephor's inner circle from having spent a great deal of time studying with them. Lorenso's wargear includes a suit of artificer armor, jump pack, psychic hood and a pair of custom force falchions.

- Marcus Castivar, Master Champion of the Astral Hawks and Commander of the Void Guard: A child of the Scepteri System, Marcus grew up in Micheal's and later Atherel's crew. Once the Primarch was reunited with his legion, Marcus was the first non-terran born initiate of the Astral Hawks. Working as hard as he could, Marcus rose through the ranks before eventually earning the honor of leading the Void Guard. Marcus' wargear includes a suit of artificer armor, jump pack, storm shield and a powerfist with an integrated dual plasma pistol on the back.

- Starfury: a Gloriana Class Battleship and Atherel's personal flagship.

- Void Falcon: A highly modified Stormbird that serves as both Atherel's personal transport/gunship and a test bed for experimental systems. About 20% of the ships original transportation capacity has been sacrificed for additional support systems.

- Archangel-Pattern Dreadnoughts: After the successful successful creation of Michael's custom Xiphon Interceptor, a similar process was attempted with Dreadnought sarcophagus'. Though it would take some effort, the experiment proved successful. Dubbed archangels, these new creations now account for about a fifth of the legion's entombed veterans. While terrifyingly potent on the battlefield, plugging a Dreadnought sarcophagus into a non-human form proved to not be without drawbacks. The unnatural control of an Archangel-Pattern put more mental stress on the entombed veterans, requiring increased downtime between deployments. In addition, advanced auto-pilot machine spirits and neuro-stimulants proved to be a necessity to keep these war machines airborn through any lapses in cognizance.

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role: The Astral Hawks are masters of void and aerial combat. As such they specialize in lighting assaults and mobile, reactive gun lines. For their mobile gun lines, the Astral Hawks deploy their unique Ranger squads; astartes armed with boltguns and equipped with jump packs. To support this, they rely on Despoiler & Breacher squads for their assaults & boarding actions. In contrast, Devastator and Tactical squads are almost only ever employed to counter enemy boarding actions or to support the legion's auxiliaries in defense of static locations.

Their vehicle armory follows a similar pattern. While their tank complement is almost non-existent by most legion's standards, the Astral Hawks make up for it with an absolutely massive number of drop-pods, boarding & strike craft, bombers, gunships and interceptors. All that said, they are still astartes. In ground-side battles the Astral Hawks form highly fluid battle lines; outmaneuvering and baiting their foes into unfavorable engagements.

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: Off of the front lines, The Astral Hawks have one simple order from their Primarch; Be of service to humanity. Typically reserve fleets off of the front lines will take up residence in a localized sub-sector of space, usually a cluster of 3 to 5 star systems, though this can be higher or lower depending the size and density of the systems in question.

Standard protocol is to use the fleet's battle barge as a mobile HQ stationed in the most populous and well-developed star system. From there, the rest of the fleet is dispersed across the sub-sector as needed. Beyond that, the Astartes of the Astral Hawks integrate themselves into the various organizations and functions of Imperial Society. An Apothecary at the local medicae, Techmarines working civilian maintenance, Battle Brothers assisting Arbites operations, Sergeants training local militia, and the list goes on.

On the grander scale, while the Astral Hawks certainly aren't as good of civil engineers as the Imperial Star League, the Astral Hawks do leave behind a certain effect on the worlds they've occupied. Well developed orbital stations, shipyards & fortifications as well as inter-system trade & communications are the hallmarks of the Astral Hawks.

Lastly, the reserve fleets also serve the important role of recruitment of new space marines. Wherever the Astral Hawks set up shop, all boys of age are tested for genetic and psychological compatibility. Those who pass are offered the opportunity to become an aspirant. By only accepting volunteers, the Astral Hawks are better able to ensure the mental fortitude and strength of will of their new recruits. A luxury that can only be afforded on account of the legion's battle tactics and the sheer breadth of it's recruiting grounds.

Relationships: Among the Imperium at large & the Imperial Army the Astral Hawks have a mostly positive reputation as they tend to do their best to avoid civilian casualties, meatgrinder battles and their more human presence off the battlefield in comparison to some of the other legions. That said, Atherel is more than willing to deal with acceptable civilian casualties if it means a swift end to the conflict. Their usage of the Edict of Tolerance also tends to make them more enemies than friends, especially among the older and more senior members of the Imperium.

While their relationship with the Adeptus Mechanicus is better than that of the Night Watch, it is still somewhat strained as the Astral Hawks are frequently among the first to test prototypes from the Kirk system aside from it's home legion; the Void Falcon being an excellent example of this. However, by and large the Astral Hawks employ mostly unmodified STCs and keep any modifications they do make in-house.

In regard to their fellow legions, the Astral Hawks put up a front of cold aloof formality towards those they don't like, while warming up to those that they do. In particular, when it comes to the Abyssal Lurkers, their cold front borders on actual animosity to the point that they never deploy together unless directly ordered to. On the other hand, when it comes to Legions they do get along with such as the Night Watch or Daughters of Iron, the Astral Hawks are known to execute tightly-coordinated joint-ops with them. Often dropping or extracting their brothers & sisters into and out of hotzones with unmatched speed & precision. In addition, they will cross-train with other legions for increased versatility and some sharing of specializations.

The legion's views of The Emperor is a rather eclectic mix, varying from impassive tolerance to zealous adoration as the Astral Hawks recruit from all sorts of worlds throughout the galaxy. However, there is a universal baseline of respect for The Emperor's prowess as both a warrior and leader.

When it comes to Xenos, the Astral Hawks have come to share their Primarch's pragmatic views on the topic. This holds true even for the Terran-born veterans of the Legion, though this may be due to careful adjustments to the Legion's hypnotherapy by Atherel himself more than anything else. Of course, when it comes to the Eldar, things get complicated. While the Eldar may have been blacklisted from the Edict of Tolerance, Atherel and by extension, his legion, view fighting Craftworld Aeldari as a waste of time, energy and resources that would be better spent on purging the galaxy of Orks and other more serious threats. As such, the Astral Hawks will do their best to find diplomatic solutions to conflicts with Craftworlds when and where possible. Dark Eldar raiders are shown no quarter.

Name: Wolfram of Parrisan

Gender: Male

Homeworld: The Hive City World of Parrisan. Unlike other Hive Cities found on human worlds, the single megacity of Parrisan, known as the World-City, is a vast horizontal urban sprawl covering much of a world bearing terrain similar to 3rd Millennium-era Terra, opposed to the general design of enormous spire cities. The main source of conflict, strife, and danger came not from the world itself, but from the nearby locations in the void of space, for at the time of his arrival, Parrison was a minor spacefaring multi-world nation, bent on its own claims to undiscovered human worlds and technology.

Appearance: Wolfram resembles the common flavors of ancient North Europe stock, fair skin and hair, with a brighter verdant green eye color. In physical build and height, Wolfram is the best example of what would be the closest to a ‘stock Primarch’ were there ever such a thing. He stands at roughly 11 feet tall, with a build that towers over others, but with proportions more in line with one who does not actively serve in combat and instead keeps fit through physical regimens. When it comes to the armored battle regalia of a Primarch, Wolfram is as much an outlier as he is militarily, favoring a lighter suit of custom powered armor more resembling a souped-up suit of Astartes Scout armor rather than the standard large battle armor donned by the frontline fighters of the Imperium. He also bears a power sword resembling the depictions of the ancient Terran mythological sword Excalibur, a traditional English longsword with a golden rectangular crossguard and matching rounded pommel, with his sidearm being a Bolt Pistol that to the untrained eye would seem to match those carried by all other Astartes officers, but is carefully engraved with lines resembling the travel layout of the entire World-City of Parrisan.

Personality: Wolfram is quiet. Eerily quiet. He is the bookkeeper that stands just alongside the mob boss in his chair. The financier next to the CEO at a board meeting. The adviser who speaks only in whispers in the king's ear. The trusted first officer always at the side of the naval captain. In a galaxy of generals, statesmen, warmongers, tyrants, and heroes, Wolfram is the 'man behind the throne' often found throughout the history of mankind. As such, in meetings between his siblings, their father, and others of importance in the Imperial government and military, Wolfram is often the only attendant who almost never speaks, answering questions and making statements in the most direct way possible, with no fanfare or righteous anger. When he reports of conflict, everything is presented akin to statistics on a clipboard, or data in a spreadsheet. This often puts him at odds with those who see the Crusade as a righteous quest or a grandiose adventure. To Wolfram, it is not. It is war, and war is not heroic, it is cold and impersonal. And Wolfram knows that understanding this is vital to uniting the galaxy under human rule. In his mind, the purpose of the Astartes is to fight, bleed, and die for the common people of mankind. This war is not for the sake of the superhuman beings leading its charge, but in the name and defense of those who are not able to fight this battle themselves.

Skills: Some of his siblings are warrior-tacticians, champions who lead their armies into battle from the tip of the frontline. Others are statesmen and politicians, world builders who fight to preserve the conquest for the Imperium of the future. Wolfram is neither of these things. First and foremost he is a master of logistics and broad strategy, the movement and planning of an entire front, directing entire army groups across fronts spanning an entire continent, armadas patrolling an entire subsector. Though he carries arms and armor, they are not his true tools of battle. His weapon is the pen of a cartographer, his shield the map of a war theater, his armor the order directing distribution of forces, supply, and relief. While his siblings win personal glory and bring back trophies and tales of their accomplishments, Wolfram simply brings statistical reports of worlds reclaimed, supplies and forces lost, assets captured, and future plans. While he has the same natural aptitude and inherent talent for physical combat as all other Primarchs, in terms of proficiency, the more intimate the fight becomes, the harder it becomes for Wolfram to comprehend. His mind is not build to lead a squad, a single division, or a system fleet. It is honed and trained to direct the men and women that do, to ensure they are able to operate at their peak in their chosen field of engagement. In times of politicking and social networking, empire-building and leadership, Wolfram is the man tracking public opinion. He's the campaign manager to the man running for office. He abhors the public spotlight, as statistics and charts simply bore the common man, while a rousing speech can make parades out of the deaths of millions.

Assignment Grade: Kappa level, generally manifesting itself as a natural intuition or 'gut feeling' in how, when, and where to deploy assorted assets, units, and supplies. He has found that his seclusion of emotions tend to cause more intense manifestation of these 6th sense predictions, and he fears this is the herald of something more fierce to come.

Biography: The citizenry of Parrisan were one of the lucky human colony worlds that remained relatively unscathed by the fall of Pre-Imperium Humanity. Thus, when the incubation pod containing the lost Primarch crash-landed upon the world, near the center of the vast city, scientific and engineering research teams quickly arrived to investigate. Upon discovering the young Primarch, even their rudimentary(compared to the Imperium) equipment could see the vast power he carried. He was given to the Parrisanian government to be raised as a future head in the effort to rediscover nearby lost human colony worlds. Over time, both the young man dubbed Wolfram of Parrisan and his superiors and trainers saw that his mental intuition for force organization, supply line arrangement, and the broad front deployment of large-scale units was the only thing that rivaled his superhuman physique. In no time at all, the Parrisanian Star League expanded from a small pocket of three star systems to nearly the size of an entire modern Imperial Sub-Sector.

But with expansion comes conflict, and not all of it human. With the expansion of Parrisanian territory, the antiquated human war vessels came into contact with minor, yet devastating, Xenos races in several sections of their Rimward frontier. After a series of grueling campaigns in a multi-front war, and some expert maneuvering of forward fleets to keep the Xenos divided enough to prevent a united front, the war would be whittled down to the beleaguered Parrisanian Star League and the most prominent and successful Xenos force, known as the Lannoth. For much of the direct campaign against the Lannoth, even Wolfram's expert organization of the Parrisanian Armada could not prevent the front from steadily collapsing as their ships were forced to either pull back or win unstable Pyrrhic victories which would never last. The fortunes finally began to reverse when some of the most powerful vessels in the Lannoth fleets began to be withdrawn deep into their territory, giving Wolfram the perfect opportunity to break through, overwhelming their forces in the confusion of what Wolfram's intelligence determined was the arrival of another Human force to the Xenos' opposing flank.

Now caught in a two-front engagement, they would eventually collapse, with the two human forces with no prior contact finally meeting as they laid ground siege to the capital planet of the Xenos. The top commanding officer of the unknown Human forces made contact with the Parrisanian Star League, requesting a parlay between Wolfram and himself. Their smallest ships of the line were enough to obliterate even the most sophisticated of Parrisan's vessels, so the agreement was made almost immediately. The two met in orbit around the planet, via docking two shuttlecraft together in order to form a neutral meeting location. As soon as Wolfram met with the other force commander, he understood that it was not just their superior vessels that enabled this strange armada to annihilate the alien military.

The man exuded an intense aura of awe and wonder, despite simply appearing as a simple human man garbed in the standard military officer's uniform of his accompanying staff officers. However, the man was clearly the most brilliant leader not just in his nation, but likely within the entire galaxy. This man made it clear that he was not just the officer in charge of this theater of his war, but the supreme leader of the entire nation he hailed from, the Imperium of Man, ruler of the ancient human homeworld of Terra. Wolfram was more than accustomed to dealing with pompous political leaders who made far more grandiose claims than this, as he had served under far too many of them in his extended superhuman life as the chief military official within Parrisan. But unlike the others, this man was far more than all talk. His stance, his walk, and his voice carried himself as everything he claimed to be, and more.

A non-aggression agreement was made, with a further political discussion being planned after the mutual defeat of the last Xenos holdouts. The Emperor insisted on combining the ground forces of his Imperial Navy with the Parrisanian Star League Marines, so that Wolfram and himself could learn more about each others' strategic acumen on the ground as well as in the void.

After the defeat of the Lannoth, The Emperor requested that Wolfram direct him to the Chancellor of the World-City, who was convinced to abdicate his position to Wolfram almost immediately. Upon questioning why the Emperor had desired this, he made it all clear to Wolfram of Parrisan. He was one of the Emperor's Sons, the 20 Primarchs created specifically to lead mankind's most elite forces, that had been scattered across the galaxy by villainous enemies of mankind many years ago, and he had been gathering them ever since, while also seeking to reunite the scattered worlds of humanity. He desired Wolfram to join him in this war, and after much internal deliberation, Wolfram agreed. To Wolfram, this was a way to help ensure the broader protection of not just the people of the Parrisan Star League, but other people in both similar and less beneficial situations across the galaxy.

When reunited with his Legion of Astartes warriors and their Imperial Army contingents, Wolfram set about redesigning their force organization to better suit their equipment. The Astartes divisions would serve as the steel bone structure to the softer, more mortal forces of the Army in ground combat, while Astartes space vessels would act as command ships for Imperial fleets under his command. One of the gifts accompanying his Legion was his own Imperial flagship vessel, which he christened the Astra Urba, or Star City, as a counterpart to the World-City of his adopted homeworld.

In honor of the military force which he served with for years, his Legion would become dubbed the Imperial Star League, with the Parrisan Star League becoming the name of the Imperial Army units raised from his homeworld. In a bizarre decision that, like others, set Wolfram apart from his siblings, he made the executive decision to supply and recruit for the Imperial Star League as he had done with his former forces, by operating entirely from aboard voidships and drawing supplies and recruits for both the Army and the Astartes from Compliant worlds. The Astra Urba would operate as the primary field command center for controlling the entire front of his legion.

With this, much of Wolfram's actions in the subsequent crusade would see his entire Legion and their contingents operating in the same broad front, battling the same enemy in the same theater of war, overseen in the broadest strokes by the Primarch and carried down the chain of command. As such, Wolfram does not tell stories of scaling enemy super cannons or dueling Ork warbosses in a multi-hour hand to hand battle. Instead he simply provides progress reports on his divisions, offers and asks for suggestions on future courses of action, and confers with his siblings and father on how to manipulate his theater to assist the others.

This leaves Wolfram himself feeling much more at home with his cadre of Legionnaire staff officers and their Imperial Army counterparts, as they operate much in the same fashion, while subsequently isolated from many of the only beings that near him as an equal in any fashion. But there is a time for heroics in war, and a time for efficiency. It is better to leave the charges and speeches to those properly suited for it, while those with the mind for high-level command at the back where they can direct the wider-scale engagement.

The Meeting: The Parrisanian shuttle locked docking walkways with its far larger counterpart from the unknown fleet that had aided them against the aliens. The moment the vessels locked into place, Wolfram felt...small. Not just physically, but mentally, as though someone aboard the other vessel was watching him directly. Stepping into the airlock doorway as it hissed open in time with its counterpart on the other ship, this ethereal pressure grew more and more immense upon his mind. As they were directed through the halls by armed men far better equipped than the Parrisan Star League Marines. They escorted Wolfram and his small cadre of general staff officers to the bridge of the far more expansive shuttlecraft, inside which stood a trio of men, one of which simply radiated with the mental weight Wolfram had felt. This man is the one that addressed him.

“Ah, now the survival of your forces makes sense. You must be the mastermind of this conflict’s success on your end.”

Wolfram nodded slowly and carefully stepped forward a bit. This man’s presence seemed familiar. And Wolfram would swear the man grew in physical stature the more he glanced between him and the environment. Simultaneously both eager and fearful of learning more about this bizarre presence, he would extend a hand to the official. “Yes, I am Wolfram of Parrisan, Alpha Commander of the Parrisan Star League, sworn to service under the Chancellorship of the World-City.”

The unknown commander clasped Wolfram’s hand and shook it vigorously, and Wolfram noted that by this point, the hand was nearly as large as his own. For some reason, this did not strike Wolfram as nearly as unusual or questionable as it should have been, and no one else in the room seemed bothered by this man at all.

“Now, it's time I introduced myself and those under me. I battle in the name of the Imperium of Man, whose destiny it is to reunite all humans under one banner once again. Mine. I am the ruler of Terra, also known to many as Earth, the ancient homeworld of our race. I am the Emperor of Man.”

Wolfram could tell that this man was not like most who made such broad and elaborate claims. His words spoke true, not just in their literal meaning, but in the very fiber of his being, and it radiated from him and overwhelmed all before him like a tidal wave.

“I see. Well, Emperor, I am most pleased to meet another of similar ilk. I’m sure our respective nations would be more than eager for a beneficial agreement to arise between us.”

“True enough, Commander Wolfram. Let us conclude the matter at hand first, however. The last of these aliens are holed up in the planet below. Let’s command our forces side-by-side and wipe them from our galaxy.”

The campaign against the Lannoth ended in a complete victory for the sudden alliance of the Imperium of Man and the Parrisan Star League, with the world completely wiped of all sentient alien forces. After this total victory, the Parrisan Naval forces would escort those from the Imperium to the homeworld of Parrisan, ushering them down to the World-City below.

Wolfram and the Emperor would enter City Center, the capitol building and home to the Chancellor of Parrisan, currently a man known as Varis Quinten. Stopping outside the doorway to the Chancellor’s office, the Emperor turned to speak one last time to Wolfram before his personal meeting with Varis.

“Commander, you should know that I intend to have Parrisan sworn into loyalty within the Imperium, by force if absolutely necessary. From your character and our time together so far, I feel you will not object to such intentions, but should you wish to, make it known now and we will settle it with a fair challenge.”

Wolfram watched as the previously pleasant and welcoming look adorning the Emperor’s face since their initial meeting had shifted with the very air around them, growing stern and direly serious. With a solemn stare matching the Emperor’s own, he simply replied “I will not contest your claim. Make your proposal to the Chancellor, and all shall see the results.”

After this discussion, the Emperor gracefully entered the office, and with less than ten minutes of near silence coming from the office, exited with a much calmer and more welcoming look once again adorning his visage.

“The Chancellor has agreed to secede his condition to you, as long as you were to swear Parrisan and its surrounding worlds to fealty under the Imperium and myself. Do you accept these terms, Commander?”

Wolfram looked to the imposing figure before him, before slowly and carefully falling to one knee. Bowing his head, he spoke.

“I, Alpha Commander Wolfram of the Parrisan Star League do hereby swear myself and the worlds under my command into the service of the Imperium of Man and its Emperor of Mankind.”

“Rise, Wolfram of Parrisan, for there is more I must tell you.”

As he rose Wolfram’s eyebrow cocked in curiosity, and he could help but to speak.
“What else could there be, lord?”

“As I’m sure you’ve become aware at this point, there are unique circumstances of life surrounding myself, yourself, and our meeting. You’ve likely wondered about the origins of your immense stature and superior mental and physical aptitudes. These are my doing. Long ago I created 20 elite beings engineered from aspects of myself, but powers working against Mankind stripped me of them and scattered their infantile forms across the stars. However, from their design, I was able to derive warriors intended for my creations, my children, to lead as part of my conquest of the galaxy. You are one such creation, Wolfram of Parrisan. You are one of my lost sons, and at last I have found you.”

Legion Name: Formerly dubbed by the Emperor as the Steel Angels, They were quickly renamed to the Imperial Star League by their Primarch as an homage to the original force he led, and their status as an extension of the Imperial Army and garrison forces from that world.

Legion Number: IV

Legion Strength: 100,000 Astartes

Armour Appearance:

Warcry: "For All Mankind!"

Dramatis Personae: The primary top members within the legion form what Primarch Wolfram refers to as his 'Star League General Staff', a tradition carried from the original Parrisan Star League. They consist of the single most skilled and senior officer or representative from each of the following Legion-affiliate organizations: The Astartes Ground Forces, Astartes Naval Forces, Imperial Army Ground Forces, and Imperial Army Naval Forces. They are as follows.

Marine General Germaine Varr: The top officer in command of the 4th Legion's Astartes ground divisions, and one that has been with the Legion longer than its own Primarch. He served as the Legion Master in the years before Wolfram's discovery, and thus has the most understanding of the Legion's force capabilities out of every member of the General Staff. He will not hesitate to cite this personal experience when recommending a different course of action to the Primarch, and often Wolfram will at least partially incorporate his suggestions every single time.

Marine Admiral Bethar Andaris:Easily the most experienced naval strategist bar the Primarch himself, and once a mortal serving alongside Wolfram as the Star Admiral of the Parrisan Star League Navy. Bethar was luckily youthful enough to survive conversion to a full and proper Astartes, though his experience serving alongside Wolfram prior to his discovery by the Emperor has honed his mind in line with that of a staff officer. Much like Wolfram himself, the man excels far more as a strategic mind at the bridge of an operation's flagship than leading the ground battle, despite being physically an Astartes rather than a normal human. He's easily Wolfram's most trusted adviser and comrade, and would likely take his place as a new Legion Master should the Primarch have to leave the Legion for an extended period.

Imperial General Ophiel Santar: Germaine's mortal counterpart, and the best infantry senior officer the 4th Legion could get its hands on. During his service as a commissioned member of the Imperial Army, he's been shuffled around between Legion attachments to gather experience in commanding such large troop deployments, before eventually finding a permanent home as the head of the Imperial Army's ground attachment to the Star League. He's heavily focused on cooperation with Germaine, as the Legion's tactics involve the Astartes ground forces to serve as the solid frame the Army divisions are formed up around. He frequently doesn't have much to add to staff meetings himself, preferring to bring reports and defer to the wisdom of the ageless Astartes and their Primarch.

Imperial Admiral Michael Kyrax: Originally the Imperial Naval Liaison aboard Bethar's flagship, when Bethar was elevated to the General Staff upon its formalized creation, Michael came with him. Where Bethar is the aggressive spearhead of the Star League's fleet battleplans, Michael is the tempered shield, ensuring the battlegroups do not advance too far to stretch the supply lines or risk being cut off without their screening support. He's renowned in both the Imperial and Astartes ranks as one of the few mortals who can talk down the fiery passion of an Astartes.

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role: When the Legion deploys, it is always in a mix of Marine and Imperial forces. Marine Divisions or Naval vessels are used as firm puncturing formations to pierce the opposing front while being screened in its advance by heavy Imperial ground and Naval forces respectively. Astartes and Imperial ground forces both deploy as Heavy Mechanized Infantry, utilizing heavily armed and armored infantry fighting vehicles supported with heavy tanks and self-propelled artillery. In naval engagements, the Astartes vessels are heavy battleships designed solely to fight ship-to-ship, with the Imperial screens meant to provide voidfighter cover and longer-range anti-armor fire. Airfighters are used to deny enemy air superiority when it is an issue, but are otherwise dedicated to bombing strategic military targets prior to an advance from the Legion's lines. Orbital strikes and other 'superweapon' attacks are frowned upon unless it is assumed that the world cannot be reclaimed, then all possible assets and personnel are withdrawn and the entire naval presence in orbit commences bombardment.

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: When a world has reached acceptable levels of Compliance or is otherwise garrisoned by members of the legion, every member capable of doing so actively assists in reconstruction and relief efforts. A Marine in the legion can transition from firing on rebelling militias to helping the survivors of an airbombing rebuild their homes at a moments notice. The founding philosophy of the Legion is that of the belief that if they do not help the victims of war, then no one will, and that the latter is an unacceptable failure of the Imperium's duty to defend humanity. To the Star League, the Crusade is first and foremost a quest to reunify and consolidate the human race, and ensure their safety and security among the stars. As such, when combating human rebellions, they focus their efforts onto military targets as much as possible, and are far more concerned about civilian casualties and defending refugees than ensuring a rapid victory. In the mind of a member of the Star League, maximizing surviving loyalist innocents is more important than any other aspect of the war, and as such the first thing ever included in a battle report is the number of civilians and loyalist local defense units rescued. In engagements with Xenos forces, rescuing humans takes even more of a precedent, with the goal being to defend their escape and ensure their complete evacuation off-planet above all else. The Astartes conversion is a gift given to the Legions to defend those not able to do so themselves, a belief best embodied in their motto and warcry “For all mankind!”

Relationships: Because the Star League heavily integrate ground and space forces from the Imperial Army into their regular combat formations, many in their legion detachments and even those having temporarily served with them in command have come to view them as more "like the grunts" than expected, and casual conversations between Marines and Imperial Army personnel stationed together is very common. Given their penchant for recruiting and training reinforcements from worlds being garrisoned before they depart, many of the Astartes and Army members within the Legion come from a largely diverse set of cultural and ethnic backgrounds, giving the 'camp culture' on both their vessels and on-planet a distinct variety and uniqueness. Their reliance on heavy usage of space travel means they have many contacts and connections with the Navigator families and the Astra Telepathica as well.

Name: Prometheus The Light Bringer


Gender: Male

Homeworld: Amn

Appearance: Prometheus is tall and powerful like all Primarchs, standing at a powerful 10'6". Prometheus is olive skinned, like that of the ancient Mediterranean empires with closely cropped black hair. Beyond the impressiveness of being a Primarch he actually looks rather plain, as if someone had simply taken any mortal man and made them larger. His most distinguishing feature is in his bearing rather than appearance with infinite patience and understanding like that of a scholar or tutor. Going so far as to allow his Captains and Generals of the Imperial Army build a system wide battle strategy with mere suggestions from the Primarch.

When prepared for battle the Primarch almost always wears some of the most massive and bulky battle plate possible, Prometheus looks like a Terminator grown to monstrous proportions. The armor thick and heavy enough to shrug off all but the most destructive attacks. The armor reflects his legion closely with gleaming bronze gauntlets boots and breastplate and pure white on the rest. His helm however is painted pitch black with a large crimson crest running along the top of the helm.

His Wargear is almost always an enormous power glaive "The Lance of Sol" that is nearly on the scale of a Knight titan lance.

A modified heavy bolter is affixed to his bracer armor granting him a powerfully destructive ranged weapon.

Otherwise he carries a huge power sword and storm shield, though he does not use this unless he truly needs even more protection beyond his terminator armor

Personality: Prometheus is patient, nearly infinitely so, He can and does allow strategy meetings to run for many hours listening to each idea, its justification, the following debate, points of contention and suggestions of refinement. He has the power and ability to make unanimous decisions of command and will do so if he is pressed for time and a long meeting would threaten their war footing. This patience however occasionally causes friction with his siblings when they cant get a rise out of him or bore them with the endless meetings that define Prometheus and his war efforts.

Prometheus can not admit defeat, even when it is a clear and decisive defeat. While he has so far only experienced this once at the hands of the Emperor he has more than once pressed forward dragging a battle out to its conclusion even if the victory is a phyrric one. This has partially influenced the general strategy he employs, in using a slow grinding pace he can ensure his casualties are low while slowly cementing his inevitable victory.

Finally Prometheus is extremely trusting in those around him. While this does not extend to an Imperial Army officer he has never met his siblings, officers and generals he will trust almost without question. If they declare something he disagrees with or knows to be false he would argue the point but in most cases he will believe them at their word. This has bitten him before when a general is over confident and assured of his victory guaranteeing Prometheus some prize but ultimately failing and sending his carefully laid plans into chaos.

Skills: Prometheus is a master tactician - even beyond other Primarchs, this is helped by his limited forsight but he can craft a massively complex system wide war doctrine that will fracture and fold every defense thrown against him. While there are always situations that can not be won, if a path to victory exists he will find it. In defense he masterfully counter acts each offensive thrust by his enemy making any assault costly if not futile.

His other particular skill is influence on a crowd, while any Primarch speaking has ultimate authority, Promethius can influence a group very effectively. When giving a speech to his legion, Imperial Army, or the masses he can convince them into making nearly any effort for him. He can turn a regiment in full rout into an unbreakable unit or spark a citizen revolt to overthrow a regime to join the Imperium with a single speech.

Assignment Grade: Kappa - Prometheus possesses a bare hint of psyker ability which largely comes in two areas. The first is Divination that manifests itself as a simple hunch or feeling. This is usually during planning or discussions of strategy that a plan will seem flawless tactically but he will modify the plan to counteract an unknown threat. It is understood that this is part of his psychic ability but is not something he has any real control over.

The second is an inspiring presence when he chooses to use it. He only uses this ability on the battle field to bolster his Astartes and Imperial army units around him. Its effect is to inspire heroic bravery and fervor for glory pushing even the average imperial infantryman into an unyielding fighter stubborn in the face of any danger.

Biography:
Prometheus' clone pod fell upon the world of Amn, a hellish war-torn world of dozens of mighty Hive Cities each its own state in itself. The Hive Cities fought eternal bloody wars over the territories surrounding each Hive success only measured in how many factory complexes were captured and lost, the casualties generally... cataclysmic. Prometheus fell just outside one such city, Baldar one of the most vicious and powerful cities in the system. The only method for advancement was through military success and brutal efficiency. When his pod was found and the infant pulled from it he was inspected for signs of mutation and defect, as a Primarch none was found. He was raised as an orphan taught strategy and military theory while being brought up on stories of heroic warriors and genius generals. Prometheus absorbed these theories in mere months and was placed into the military as his guardians could no longer teach him.

Prometheus was the perfect soldier and rose through the ranks through sheer force of perfection and his brilliant tactical mind, easily shifting battles that would have otherwise been a crushing defeat into a heroic victory. Once he had grown to the place of the Governor-General's right hand he simply took control of the hive. This was done simply by showing that he would be a better leader and while the Governor-General tried to keep the reigns of power Prometheus was quickly backed not only by the whole hive's military but the populace as well. In a hand full of years Prometheus took control of his hive, the world however fought long and hard against him. However in a mere decade Prometheus had taken control of the world with weight of arms and oratory skill.

A single world was not enough, after encountering a small Ork empire and a cousin human civilization Prometheus knew that his little world was not enough to make a safe empire for the common mortal to live in. So, in reply to these discoveries he grew an Empire. After uniting the human civilization and eradicating the ork empire he continued his conquest across the stars building colonies and uniting humanity sometimes through conquest. Before long Prometheus set his sights on worlds already spoken for by the Imperium. When his fleets entered Imperial space they where greeted with open arms but the Expedition fleets quickly demanded annexation of the empire of Amn. Prometheus' representatives declined and it was eventually decided to conquer this Imperium.

It took the conquest of several systems and many Imperial worlds before this upstart Empire of Amn drew the ire of the Emperor. He a truly mighty crusade fleet came to quash Prometheus and his little empire. However when Prometheus became directly involved he nearly fought the crusade fleet to a stand still even with the vastly superior power of the Imperial forces. However the power of the Emperor, Astartes and Titan Legions eventually broke Promenteus' military. Their resilience proved that a Primarch must be at the head of this upstart so the Emperor struck at the heart of the empire to finally meet his lost child. The Emperor himself landed at the capital hive Baldar requesting a meeting with the Primarch at its head.

The Meeting:
The Emperor besieged the city of Balar with the full might of his crusade, Custodes, Astartes, Titan legions all arrayed against the Hive and Primarch within. Prometheus had grown to understand these forces in the long war against the Imperium. He knew the war was lost, no cunning flourish of strategy could turn the tide in his favor now. The lines are drawn and all that remains is to have the final battle. He should surrender he knew, but his pride and honor could not allow such a thing. Prometheus had to fight to the end, when the last soldier drew his last breath was when he could finally admit defeat. So there was only one other option. Rather than allowing the city to burn and his people die in their millions the Primarch and his army would sally forth and fight this Emperor in the field so he and his forces could die like heroes and the city would survive.

He called the army and collected what little might remained, the soldiers where little more than conscripts called now after his veterans where killed on far off worlds. Even still the battle must be joined. Nearly 1 million men and women gathered in the great streets before the gate of the hive city equipped no better than the Imperial Army troopers surrounding the city. Prometheus standing with his back to the gate surveyed the soldiers before him and the civilian onlookers. as he begins to speak the gate begins to roll open.
"My friends! My Sons and Daughters!" the Primarch shouts "I see fear, fear that would take even my spirit. A day may come where the world of Amn falls, a day of ruin and blood.. But that is not this day! This is a day of heroes! Your strength will be tested but you are the Warriors of Amn! And you my Warriors! my Knights! will strike awe and terror into our enemies and bring this Emperor to his knees!" with a final boom the gates stand fully open "Our deeds this day will echo in Eternity!" he shouts with finality and turns to charge out the gate on foot with the million of soldiers cheering behind him prepared to charge into certain death and more than willing to do so.

The guns of the Imperial lines stay silent though more than able to shell the entire force into oblivion. The Emperor stands directly opposite the charging lines his great blazing sword sticking from the ground before him with his Custodes guard and the Entire 5th legion at his back. Just before the lines came to firing range the Emperor spoke.
"HALT"
The word was not so much a command, but a fact, as the word left his lips it was carried across the battlefield with his power bringing the charge to an instant stop dispelling the fervor granted by Prometheus and bringing most to their knees in supplication there and then. Even Prometheus found his muscles rebelling against him halting his momentum. The Emperor strode forwards accompanied by a single Custodes carrying a banner. Prometheus watched the Emperor approach but was at a loss, if the Emperor could simply have stopped the fighting with a single command, why was he allowing any of this charade? he could easily destroy Prometheus and the rest of his army at a whim.

When they came to a few dozen yards of each other Prometheus exploded forward lashing out with his blade, engaging the Emperor in a duel of blades. They seemed evenly matched blazing around the area in a furious trade of blows. It took only moments however before Prometheus realized this was not a battle per say, the Emperor was trying to converse with him. The fight dragged on for a full minute with the Emperor pointing out each strategic mistake by Prometheus of their duel with swordplay alone. The fight stopped when the Emperor disarmed Prometheus by cleaving the hilt from the blade of the Primarch's sword.
"You must be the leader here" The Emperor said not even winded from the duel. "none other could be leading this empire, how else could you have taken so many worlds, even many of my worlds, and fought my legions to a draw"
Prometheus stared in fascination, Their duel had been furious and oddly educational, but the Emperor spoke now as if the duel had been a series of introductions of names and honorifics before the actual conversation could begin.
"I did not personally take any of your worlds, my generals had full autonomy to wage those wars"
The Emperor blinked, though none save the Primarchs could have seen the surprise written on his features.
"I see" the Emperor finally said as if finally working something out he was unsure of "I knew one of my children was here, and I am pleased I have found you" as if stating he knew one of his children was here but finally realizing which one. "Come my son, we must speak"

It was then Prometheus' turn to blink, for an instant he did not think it was likely or even possible but something he could not explain made him realize it was true. It may have been some psyker influence by the Emperor or a flash of insight through his own abilities but something told him it was true. Prometheus nodded and looked around at the forces around his hive "I suppose we should" he said finally. The Emperor strode through the prostrate army and into the Hive, the pair went to the top of the Spire locking themselves into Prometheus' private residence. The two were there for several weeks. Nobody knew what they spoke of and the pair never revealed the content of their meeting, when they emerged they emerged as father and son.

Legion Name: Knights of Awe

Legion Number: V

Legion Strength: 85,000 Astartes
1,500,000 Astarte Auxilia

Armour Appearance:


Warcry: "And the ground shall tremble" (reference to a speech by the primarch before a collossal artillery barrage)
"Now for wrath, Now for ruin, For the Imperium!"

Dramatis Personae: WIP

Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role:
The Knights of Awe are a unique Legion whom works very closely with the Imperial Army, To the point that the tactics they most often employ require the Army's assistance. Each Marine is assigned to a squad, usually 10 troopers, whom he helps train and educate. While the Marine is not always with the army squad he spends a great deal of his time with them and in battle the Marine generally fights along side the squad. However the Legion fields larger units in most cases and will have a squad of Marines leading a large Platoon of Imperial Army. If squads are dispatched away from the primary battle the Marines assigned to them often join granting valuable firepower and a heroic example to inspire the troopers. While this tactic makes the Knights of Awe are less powerful alone, with its Imperial Army support it is an unstoppable force that simply rolls over any opposition. The Marines simply adding a sharp edge to the immense hammer that is the Imperial Army.

Due to their relationship with the Imperial Army their tactics have bled into each other's so that the Legion utilizes slow and grinding trench warfare and siege tactics to colossal effect. The trench line with its vast array of heavy weapons and artillery makes an unyielding phalanx for the enemies of man to spear themselves upon.

On the offensive units are given very general orders and allowed to accomplish the orders however they see fit. The general belief being that the officer on the battlefield can read and plan the specifics better than an officer back at the command post. This has been highly effective, even when the overarching battle strategy is simple this offers soldiers the flexibility to add masterful flourishes of prowess.

Legion Characteristics/Ideology: Most of the legionaries when not dedicated to their own training or in battle are more like scholars and educators rather than soldiers. They are often found with a unit of Imperial Army training them and teaching them advanced tactical theory. Though mortal limits dictate how much the Astartes can train them and outside of that they are generally found in libraries or private rooms discussing different tactics and strategies. Even though the Legion more often than not finds itself in grinding trench warfare they are each masters of small unit tactics as individual squads are given nearly complete autonomy in how to accomplish their orders. At each level of command one would find them conversing among themselves the finer points and subtle strategies of their size of command, however many officers bring their subordinates into the same debates as an education grooming each for command.

Relationships: TBD

Gender: Female

Homeworld: Engraila is the odd fusion of a Pleasure and feudalistic Knight World. Colonised long ago during the Age of Technology and chosen specifically for its intense natural beauty, the world quickly became a major hub of humanity during those golden years, so much so that the human governments of the time deemed it a worthy world to be defended by the mechanised Knight units of those days. Despite the world’s beauty and significance, or perhaps because of it - the system that held the world was hit hard by the warp storms that raged the galaxy. It was cut off, socially and technologically regressed and infiltrated and corrupted by the storms that isolated it.

While it regressed in many areas technological - the people of Engraila maintained possession of the ancient STC schematics that enabled the continued construction of Knights, and this would maintain civilisation throughout the chaos - and ensure a deeply feudal society like nearly every other ‘Knight World’ in the galaxy.

Millennia since, Engraila has maintained and grown societies and cultures steeped deeply in knightly, chivalric and romantic customs, complex family ties and oaths and odd anachronistic usage of technology, in particular, the Knight Errants of the many Noble Families and Holy Damsels of Engraila. The influences of the warp have also quietly done its work over the millennia - though unknown to all but the most aware of people - specifically, the people of Engraila hold a nigh universal obsession with the values of aesthetics and beauty in whatever form it may be. In architecture, in song or art, in human form, even in the art of war and the chivalric codes that spawned from it. An all-powerful sense of romanticism permeates throughout Engraila, unnatural even - so powerful that it has resisted rationalist and enlightenment philosophies that otherwise should have come to be by now. While perhaps the feudalism and chivalry of Engraila can be explained by the influence of the Knight’s Throne Mechanicum, its obsession with beauty is surely something deeper...

Due to influences of said culture of chivalry and romanticism, while war was quite common on Engraila prior to the arrival of The Emperor, it was nearly always a ritualistic and heavily regulated practice performed between Noble Houses, part-sport, part-duel, these are often absurdly militarised tourneys with far more flair for the theatrical than brutal necessity of modern warfare. War is just as likely to be a means of winning the hand of a fair maiden as it to be for resources, nationalism or political ideology, perhaps more even. The exception to this system of tourney-warfare are the events known as “The Falls” - simply speaking, suspiciously specific societal collapses and periods of anarchy that occurred right before Engraila achieved space flight or could gain contact with the outer world, and typically triggered by decadence or odd new age cults.

Appearance: Nimue is an inhumanly beautiful woman that is often claimed to be the most beautiful human in the galaxy, or so her Remembrancer likes to claim {and so should you!}. She is of silver hair and silver eyes, and despite standing at the Primarch height of 9 feet Nimue possesses a physique that greatly belies her powers, seeming to be more an immensely tall damsel or the subject of old Terran classical works- or even a fairy-tale princess. Few would immediately think of her as a star-traversing conqueror and warrior.
Alongside her beauty is a constant and immense psychic presence around her. It is often said that golden light softly shimmers and glows as an aura from her, flaring up as though a physical manifestation of emotion. animals flock to her and men enter trances upon sight of her. Her voice is said to bring men and women to tears of joy or sadness. Further enhancements also come from her particularly odd practice of making use of cosmetic products typically used by the ruling elite of Engraila, as well as decorative war paints when entering battle.

Prior to The Emperor’s arrival to Engraila, Nimue during her days as a ‘Goddess’ often clad herself not in armour but ceremonial dresses, intricate gold jewellery, translucent silk robes or even walked completely naked {I am certain though that her modesty was assured by the glowing psychic light, surely?}. In the uncommon event where she was forced to physical combat alongside the Knights of Engraila, she wore highly decorative and ceremonial armour designed more to enhance her appearance than for protection - depending more on her significant psychic powers and avoidance of melee combat to prevail {though I must clarify, that her involvement in Engraila’s Wars of the Last Fall surely proves that she too is a masterful combatant of the sword}.

Since her induction into her father The Emperor’s legions, she like the other Primarchs has taken on the practice of wearing full Adeptus armour – although she insisted on custom Artificer armour, Armour which would become what is now known as the “Damsels Flourish” - a lighter and more obviously feminine suit of Adamantine and Ceramite armour than what is typically permitted or expected for the Adeptus Astartes.
The armour was designed in such a manner to be more reminiscent to the Vratine Armour of the Emperor’s own Sisters of Silence than the actual Adeptus Astartes she led. Why a vaunted Primarch would require such a modification is unknown specifically - theories range from her fighting style requiring speed and flexibility to that of simple vanity {Surely you jest good sir! It is clearly noted in the aforementioned sections that she like all of Engraila’s people put great importance in the values of aesthetics}.

Portrait Appearance: {I as Nimue’s personal Remembrancer must note that even this is but a mere simulacrum of her true great beauty}:


Personality: Primarch Nimue is of eccentric character, to say the least. Shaped by her time on Engraila where she was raised amongst priestesses, aristocrats and knights to become a material incarnation of Engraila’s Goddess who she was named after, she now genuinely believes herself to be said divine entity, Nimue, The Engrailan Goddess of Beauty and Chivalry. Prior to her interaction with The Emperor and psykers, she and the people of Engraila attributed her immense psychic powers to divine or miraculous abilities, further proving her divinity.

Besides her self-referring religiosity, Nimue is known for her overbearing personality, vanity and colossal ego - even for a Primarch of The Emperor. So much so that her meeting with The Emperor would be carried out quite differently than for the other Primarchs. The Emperor came to her cloaked anonymously to test her in trials to prove that she was no goddess, and while he easily defeated her, rather than convince her of his truth, he merely drove her towards delusion and egomaniacal denial - perhaps the onset of what can only be considered something akin to delusional narcissism, at least in the view of the other Primarchs. Nimue regardless, stubbornly holds on still to her religious identity, one now comprising a cult of personality and a god complex that comes with it.

Nimue is generally rejected, or as is more often the case causing her own rejection, by most of her siblings. Her antisocial personality has made her a black sheep amongst many of the Primarchs, perhaps only associated by other excluded Primarchs or those too soft for their own good. She is furthermore considered one the most distant of The Emperor’s children to himself (though, fascinatingly is perhaps not the most ambivalent of his children), having barely interacted since their meeting, to the point that Nimue considers the Emperor an abstraction of a person, and instead continues to treat her mortal foster father, Sir Percival, as her parent. The Emperor himself has said little to nothing of his thoughts on Nimue, but it is often rumoured that The Emperor views Nimue alone as the "problem child" of his Primarchs.

That said however, she maintains a sense of affirmation and identity from her legionnaires who have mostly adopted her beliefs, or the many mortals of Engraila and worlds that she has conquered or aligned with herself - in the particular the grovelling aristocrats and sycophants that attach themselves to her coattails. It is as such notable that while Nimue may be highly alienated from those who would be her peers, she has maintained perhaps surprisingly strong personal relations with her underlings, minions and sycophantic admirers {who on Holy Terra wrote this blasphemous part!? The previous Remembrancer who wrote this section has to be dealt with}.

While her religious beliefs are built around a form of narcissistic self-absorption and sustained god-complex, she does possess genuine spiritual beliefs and adherence to the virtues and lessons of the religion she would be named the Goddess of. Raised to embody chivalric values such as courage, magnanimity and valour, to be an exemplar of beauty and purity, both spiritual and material, and to stand in defence of the traditions and duties that guide all Knight Worlds. On top of this, she takes her duties as a goddess-figure seriously, and often presents herself before mortals as an infallible and immaculate, otherworldly being - thus creating a dual image of her, as an idol of virtue to mortals looking to her from below - and yet often a petty, selfish and vain character to those who are actually in the know - in particular her fellow Primarchs. {Again! I swear... We will have to have these parts redone}

Beyond religious ideals, Nimue also has carried on many of Engraila’s cultural values and her own aesthetic sensibilities and obsession with beauty. Highly ritualistic and artistic, Nimue often cares more for style than substance and will at times obstruct other Imperial forces simply to ensure a more glorious or romantic battle... Like any high-born Engralian [or in this case, the highest-born Engralian], Nimue is a lover of all things artistic and aesthetic. When not waging war or knighting questors, she is painting, composing, designing, writing or refining anything and everything beautiful, or ensuring its patronage from others. Due to this, Nimue has been known to at times avoid destroying certain buildings or works of arts during campaigns.

Nimue on the matter of civilians has at times ordered or even personally acted in a manner that can be considered an effort to protect civilian life, however this has often been selective, terribly elitist and at times whimsical. Examples range from deciding to spare a world’s aristocrats because they had good dress sensibilities yet on the very same world rolling over a nearby cottage because it was ‘a horrid abomination’, despite the battle having already ended in the region days ago. While this arbitrariness would seem absurd to the more humanistic or rational legions, to Nimue and her followers - it is a perfectly reasonable decision to make, and certainly more than what they would have got had they been delivered by a far less magnanimous conqueror. The few times she has been moved to actually commit to more genuine humanistic endeavours (usually at the behest of one such as Sekh), it has been appealing to ‘godly obligations’ rather than actual compassion.

Finally, in the matter of Xenos, while mostly unaware of alien life until The Emperor came, Nimue has since been in general accord with what she imagines to be The Emperor's designs and will for the Xenos scum. While she may completely reject the Imperial Truth’s secular foundations, she does find agreement with him in its human supremacy and rejection of the xeno. To her, the holy human form is beauty in its purest form, and the xeno, in its infinitely numerous but ugly forms is either a vile desecration in the case of most xenos, or a degenerate aberration of it (as with the Aeldari). As such, the Xenos are a direct affront to her aesthetics and notions of purity, and so she is more than willing to exterminate them. Nimue believes that the galaxy must be made a pure garden for humanity alone, for it is humanity alone that has a place in a design as perfect and beautiful as the Imperium of Man. For this reason, Nimue rejects in its entirety the Edicts of Tolerance {or as I remember most humorously, she calls the 'Nattering's of Micholi'), and personally blames the Primarch Micholi of the Night Watch for manipulating The Emperor.

Skill:

• Psyker: (See Psyker Assignment)
• Agility: Nimue while preferring to blast her opponents with her considerable psyker powers, in close combat typically makes use of her slighter than usual frame and lighter armour relative to other Space Marines to enhance her speed and nimbleness, avoiding and dancing around blows. This particularly makes Nimue an effective melee combatant in difficult environments - uneven terrain, urban battlefields, jungles and so on. Her agility also enables her the ability to more easily chase down retreating opponents, as well as retreat herself.
• Charisma: Nimue possesses substantial skill and natural aptitude towards the persuasive arts, having been a world leader and religious figure of her homeworld - she is exceptionally skilled in both inspiring fervour in her soldiers and supporters as well as more personally enticing worship, devotion and even love from others. Despite this, Nimue at times has also inspired intense dislike in others - and as such her charisma can often be considered polarising to those who do not share her beliefs or passions.
• Theology: While not particularly useful in conquest or the politics of an empire built around state atheism, Nimue is well versed in the theories and practices of religion - in particular, her own. This may become useful if she ever interacts with others with organized religious beliefs.
• Politics: Nimue is relatively well versed in the methods of dynastic and feudal politics and is personally well acquainted with many noble families - and in fact is an adopted member of one of her homeworld Engraila’s most powerful Noble Houses. While seemingly blunt and at times honest to an obnoxiously offensive extent to some of her siblings, her haughty directness hides a cunning side that often catches those unaware of this side of her off guard.
• Delegation: A particularly odd skill for a Primarch to possess, but surprisingly useful - Nimue is very talented at finding talent, binding it to her through her charisma and then maximising it from others, generally with the intention of filling in for her weaknesses. Beyond her own superhuman abilities, Nimue finds and employs some of the greatest mortal minds in the galaxy in her retinue of specialists: Logisticians, academics, economists, Imperial Army tacticians and strategists, linguists, geologists - whatever she can find to give her an edge. {I will also add that Her Holy Eminence is a great patron of the arts and the Remembrancers, with many of us having built our careers on Her personal patronage of our works}
• Art: {her artistic abilities are surely above and beyond any Remembrancer in the galaxy!}

Wargear:

• The Damsel’s Flourish (Artificer Armour designed to be reminiscent of Primarch Nimue’s homeworld armour)
• Power Halberd with Volkite Serpentas integrated into the weapon.
• Power Sword (Rapier) and Volkite Serpentas pistol as alternative weapons.
• Hengroen (A customized dais-like Land Speeder Vengeance, built as both a super-heavy yet highly mobile weapons platform and personal 'chariot' and throne of Primarch Nimue)

Assignment Grade: Alpha, leaning towards Alpha+ (Nimue possesses extraordinary psyker powers that have been developed from both incredible capacity and a lifetime of extensive use for both petty and grand acts of psychic power, as her role as the "Goddess-Incarnate" of Engraila. Even though Nimue herself somewhat misunderstands the true nature of her psyker powers as she still clings to her view as herself as a physical incarnation of a goddess and so possessing miraculous divine powers, this has not stopped her powers development across the spectrum of telepathic, telekinetic, biomancy, divination and so on. Nimue in particular has shown very extensive strengths in the influencing of others minds as well as distorting the senses of mortals - which she extensively used in her role as Goddess). While immensely powerful because of her psyker powers - there does come a flaw of sorts, one that Nimue herself tends to ignore or overlook - that being she has a tendency towards relying on her Psyker powers and even being somewhat conceitedly avoidant or even lazy when it comes to actual 'gritty' to the metal physical combat. While she can and is certainly excellent at (highly mobile) melee combat, her arrogance and laziness in this regard tends to lead to oversights.

Legion Number: VII

Legion Strength:
75,000 Astartes
Imperial Army Contingents (The Celestial Inheritors often make use of IA, typically in supporting roles to fill in following successful armoured spearhead assaults. The CI also make use of private militias of all-aristocratic regiments aligned directly with the VII)
Imperial Knights (Drawing from both Engraila’s own Houses such as Houses Arcadia, Pendragon and House Elan - as well as mixed in Knights from other Knight Worlds associated with Nimue, notably House Devine)

Armour Appearance:

An Astarte of the VII Legion in embellished and customised Mark IV Armour. Reds, maroon and pinks with a base of dull grey and bronze are the colours of the Celestial Inheritors, and they often make use of romantic symbols such as roses and the fleur-de-leis. Capes are also common, such as seen here.

• Charlotte de Guinevere (Lady Commander):
• Lyx Devine of House Devine (Lady Commander):
• Marianne Delabor The Missionary (High Enchantress-Damsel):
• Lucrezia D'Testarossa (Chief-Apothecary):
• Sylelle Eidolaia (Consul-Delegatus on representative mission):
• Joan Morganna (Captain of the Chevalier-Maiden Guard):
• Dalia Plantagenet (Squire-Enchantress, member of Sylelle's team):
• Bequa Kynska
• Ostian Delafour (Remembrancer & Sculptor)
• Serena D'Angelus (Remembrancer & Painter)

The Celestial Inheritors as a Legion has some disdain for sluggish, dirtier combat styles and methods of their brother (and some of their sister) legions, leaning away from trench warfare deathtraps meant for their IA minions and bludgeoning each other with thunder hammers as their brothers do, instead preferring to ride gloriously into battle atop heavy and super-heavy armour, land-speeders of both small and large size, or descending with grace from high with jump packs or charging down foes with lances, monomolecular cavalry sabres and storm shields upon jetbikes.

Their legion as such prefers swift, fast-paced assaults focused on either ‘heavy cavalry’ (armour) breaking the enemy lines while supporting jetbike riders and mechanised infantry armed with either melee or anti-tank weapons ride down or disable enemy armour in the process. As such, in general the Celestial Inheritors are a combination of Armour Superiority, Melee-specialised mechanised infantry as well as anti-armour units. To bind this together, like other similar armoured spearhead-based Legions, the legion makes use of large quantities of Imperial Army fodder to then fill in gaps, follow up successful spearhead attacks and to hold ground taken by the legion. As an extension of their spearhead strategic outlook, the Celestial Inheritors are renown for various encirclement and blitzkrieg type mobility tactics, and in general prefer annihilation over attrition.

The Celestial Inheritors are also well known as an ‘integration’ legion, which like other fellow Legions such as the Night Watch (which, the Celestial Inheritors act as a kind of dark shadow counterpart to, in this regard) prefers making good use of combined arms and integrated units of non-astarte forces, such as the general Imperial Army, their own private militias, and, in particular, the Imperial Knights whom the Celestial Inheritors have a very close relationship with due to their own Knight World origins and Primarch Nimue’s efforts at networking with other such worlds and their houses. The Celestial Inheritors are well known for using larger numbers of Imperial Knights in their cavalry formations than most, and perhaps all, other astarte legions.

The Celestial Inheritors are particularly well known for their Cavalier Marine Squadrons, being knight-like astartes riding upon Jetbikes and armed with power lances and stormshields or a combination of other melee and ranged weapons. They are extremely swift melee 'infantry' designed like medieval shock cavalry, tasked with running down swarms of unprotected infantry or surrounding and disabling armour via careful strikes from their lances or, grenades or other carried on AT-weapons.

The Legion is also well known for their relatively unique "Damsels", battlefield priestesses and chaplains that during battle inspire troops, though who's actual purpose tends to be revolved around maintaining 'purity' and spiritual cleanliness - usually in the sense of unironically enforcing aesthetic and beauty standards on not just the legion but even their IA cohorts. Damsels are often also fused with the role of Librarian, with the Enchantress-Damsel being the official title for such a psyker-capable Astarte in the VII Legion. Damsels also often as some of the more prolific artisans of the Legion, and, as odd as it seems, act almost as a sort of PR branch for the Legion, often acting as intermediaries between the Primarch Nimue and her various aristocratic non-astarte allies, rogue-traders, planetary governors and even propaganda and marketing efforts to appeal to the common people (in particular of newly conquered worlds).

Nimue's honour-guard are known as the Chevalier-Maiden Guard.

The Seventh Legion even before Nimue Arcadia would become their Primarch inherited many of Nimue's personality traits, possessing a general tendency towards vanity, elitism and egomania similar to their geneseed sire. When Nimue took full control of her new legion, this tendency became exponentially more stronger and refined. Nimue brought with her the culture, beliefs and traditions of Engraila into the legion which would hence forth permeate throughout the entire legion's identity. As such, the Celestial Inheritors have gained a strong reputation as a legion of beautiful yet haughty aristocrat-warrior women with eccentric and often extravagant tastes accompanied by often arbitrary rules of etiquette and class... and of course seem to be perfectly fine with the cult of personality that grows from wherever they pass through.

It should be to no one's surprise that most of the Seventh Legion's recruits are taken either from Engraila, the Legion's homeworld, or from a network of Knight, Feudal and some Civilized worlds that are in some way associated with Nimue. These recruits are overwhelming selected from the aristocratic upper-class of these worlds, though occasionally clerics are also chosen. While Nimue's Legion generally selects based on the criteria of stamina, durability, strength or other such feats of competence, the legion is also renown for its tendency towards another criteria of beauty, a criteria that while ensures that most of the legion possesses the physical sensibilities of their Primarch, significantly obstructs efficient recruitment... for beauty is hardly a characteristic intrinsic to the purpose or success of a potential Astarte. Due to this self-limiting recruitment process, the Celestial Inheritors are not a particularly large legion, and even at their greatest number have never exceeded 80,000 marines. This criteria of beauty continues onwards after recruitment too, for while officially the Legion designates its promotion and ranking based on the typical areas of skill, experience, loyalty or overall ability - a less official aesthetic standard exists that judges marines on such things as how closely they took on the features of the geneseed to certain physical features, to their adherence to the arts... ensuring that to reach the higher ranks of the VII, Astartes must either submerge themselves in the aesthetic culture, or otherwise be very physically gifted from the onset.

While the obsession with beauty and aesthetics remains a constant influence on the legion, Engraila's other traditions also shines through with the legion. Chivalric principles and practices are common - knighting ceremonies, personal quests as final initiation from squire (Marine scout) to full fledged Astarte, honourable duels and personal oaths of service from master to servant even within the legion. Nimue expects her daughters to be as engaged in the arts as she is. Beyond merely warriors, they should be painters, sculptures, musicians, architects, even models or singers. It is considered a rare and extremely sort after commodity for a regular imperial citizen to acquire the artistic works of the sixth legion, and nothing can be as quite a odd (and perhaps, though left unsaid, comical) as seeing a full fledged Astarte actually dancing.

The Seventh Legion is, to the dismay of armour-workers and forgeworlds everywhere, very keen on the practice of embellishing and altering their armour for aesthetic purposes well beyond the notions of practicality. Upon receiving their mark II or mark IV armour, Astartes of the Celestial Inheritors are well known for commissioning (bullying) manufacturers into providing them personalised alterations to the armour. These modifications can range from simple additions of paraphernalia such as rose carvings, laurels and so on to relatively significant structural alterations, such as a full 'feminisation' of the breastplate to the addition of artificial wings. All the modifications serve no real utilitarian purpose however it certainly has made the VII Legion memorable to remembrances, common citizens and IA and of course the enemies of mankind.

• The Emperor: The Emperor is seen as a distant and restraining force that wishes to censor and control the Legion, though held in esteem as the pinnacle of humanity and apex of purity and the perfection of the holy human form. From the Emperor's side, there is a strong implication (or at least the rumours have it) that while he respects his VII Legion for their swift melee combat, he remains disapproving of their excessive vanity as well as their religiosity.
  --
• Other Legions: Simply put, the VII Legion is regarded as the Blacksheep of the Astartes Legions just as their Primarch Nimue is the blacksheep of her siblings. While they are known to work surprisingly well with certain legions who's primarchs relationships with their primarch are not completely soured, in general the VII are not teamplayers and instead prefers to work alongside their IA and Knight minions.
  --
• Imperial Army: The VII Legion makes common use and integration with the Imperial Army, both as a practical measure to complete their strategic doctrines need for large quantities of fodder to fill in for their main force, as well as the fact that as an aristocratic-heritage legion, they are more than used to and accepting of the notion of ordering around lowly mortals - and perhaps even feel it is a mere continuation of their pre-training lives. For the Imperial Army's part, regard for the VII Legion is split along class lines, with officers typically groveling at their feet in adoration, while non-commissioned officers and regulars looking at them either in disillusioned cynicism if treated badly, or a kind of alienated awe if treated well.
  
  Of particular note, the VII possess specific all-aristocratic private militia IA regiments that are often scions of high nobility who represent their families interests in either trying to curry favour with the VII, attempt to 'prove' the strength of their bloodline so that the VII may select future squires from their house, or, for what are in essence female child-soldiers, actual potential squires and future astartes themselves. These 'scion-militia' performances are of... mixed results, due to the nobility's misunderstanding of how Astartes selection in the VII actually works.
  --
• Knight Houses: Due to Primarch Nimue's own past being raised on a Knight World and adopted into a prominent Imperial Knight House, the VII Legion has very close ties with the Imperium's Knight Houses. Besides sharing very similar cultural values, traditions, and rituals - Nimue politically has gone out of her way to connect and network with the various Knight Worlds spread across the Imperium, generally tying these Questor Imperialis, or as is more colloquially referred to as "Questor Celestialis". Of particular note is the high number of successful Astartes that have come from the daughters of Imperial Knight houses - most prominently being Lady Commander Lyx Devine, of the Knight World Molech's House Devine.
  --
• Imperial Institutions: While there is mixed regard for the VII Legion amongst the commoners as well as the highest levels of power (the other Primarchs), the institutional elites of the Imperium adore them. Aristocrats and Planetary Governors regularly are tripping over each other to somehow claim even a slither of connection to the legion, and some of the most prominent dynasties in the galaxy often attempt to send their daughters to Engraila to join the Legion or Private Militias, not understanding that while Beauty and aristocratic heritage are criteria for selection - strength, stamina and the other usual requirements for Astarte training remain... regardless, a sycophantic and very different kind of worshipful regard for the nobility exist towards the Celestial Inheritors, and in turn the Legion tends to be the closest and most actively involved Legion with said institutional elites. It is said that the VII Legion is "the" legion for the Imperium's aristocracy.
  --
• Imperial Citizens: The Imperial citizenry tend to have a mixed view of the VII Legion. On one hand, they are atrociously haughty and sometimes both arbitrary and petty and have little regard for the common masses so those who personally have met them are often disenchanted, however on the other hand the citizenry idolise them as being 'perfect' beings, are aware of the immense value of their artistic works and know how highly their rulers regard them. Many commoners from worlds conquered by the Celestial Inheritors worship Nimue as part of a cult-of-personality extension of Engraila's religion. Interestingly, these cultists are often at odds with the wider demographics of Imperial citizenry, acting as kind of fanatical minority base of Nimue supporters.
  --
• Mechanicus: The VII Legion and the Adeptus Mechanicus have a relatively poor relationship due to the general disregard that the Celestial Inheritors have for their religious beliefs when compared with their own - in particular the clash the resides in the Astartes concern for aesthetic value in their equipment and willingness to 'defile' it to achieve greater beauty. There is furthermore political rivalry between the legion and the Admech over the control of Knight Worlds and their precious STC schematics, as prior to Nimue's arrival the Mechanicus was the only real monopolist of Knight World technology and utilisation, but now are seriously challenged by a Primarch and her legion.
  --
• Xenos: Suffer not the xenos to live.

Work in Progress
Primarch Sheet: Complete
Legion Sheet: Complete

Name: Augor Astren
Gender: Male
Homeworld: The Forge World of Last Light in the Duodeculi Sector.

Legion Name: Stargazers (Originally known as Warhounds)
Legion Number: XII
Legion Strength: Due to the near devastation of the original legion during the Rangdan Xenocides, the present-day Stargazers Legion has only 40,000 Astartes to its name. It is noteworthy however that the Legion has a vast number of members from the Adeptus Mechanicus filling out its ranks which, in a sense, makes the Stargazers legion drastically larger than most others in terms of numerical composition.
Warcries: The most frequent battlecries recorded by Historitors are as follows: "For the Quest Unending!" "Remember the Rangdan!" "Take After Vaomir!" "For the Omnissiah!"