[hider=Mon-Kal, the Thorn King]
[b]Name:[/b] Mon-Kal (roughly this translates to 'human slave' in eldar)

[b]Discovered:[/b] 800 M.30

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Homeworld:[/b] Seraphim prime

Seraphim prime was once what would have been called an agricultural world before the Age of Strife, and was quite prosperous for most all its existence. However, after its isolation the relatively safe and peaceful world received a new master. As it had no standing army, a high population, and a useful output of sustenance, a cabal of Dark Eldar began raiding the world, turning it into their own personal cattle ranch. By making certain the populace was kept working and breeding by manipulating its leaders through fear, they were free to take however many slaves they wanted. For many centuries it was like this, humans taken from their homes by the ones they began to call 'The Masters'. No one ever returned once the masters took them, and all lived in fear of the tall and dark slender beings.

The planet itself is largely cultivated farmland, centuries of farming turning it into essentially a massive breadbasket. However, as the Dark Eldar began their centuries of plundering the world, many fields went untended, and began to rapidly deteriorate. Now, approximately 50% of the world is made of great marshes from unattended fields being constantly rained on. The great peat bogs and swamps that have risen in their stead are filled with beasts dropped their by the cruel Dark Eldar to torment the populace, leading further into their despair. It rains quite often, and more often than not the sky is gray and the sun obscured, in fact this is the common state of things. The people are pale because of it, unused to the bright sun, but quite accustomed to the hard labor needed to farm massive tracts of cultivated land. Their culture has become quite grim and fatalistic, as the Dark Eldar raids, the gloomy world, and the oppression by its leaders have led the inhabitants to lives of deep melancholy and despair.

[b]Appearance:[/b] From his years spent in the sun-less commorragh, and deprived of sleep by the crown, Mon-Kal is quite pale, and his eyes sunken and ringed with sleep. His skin is drawn and sallow, sleep and food deprivation taking what were once features befitting a noble to those more befitting a slave. Strangely, some of the nobility originally in his face remains, a shadow of what it may have been. He well squared jaw, and strong bone structure reveal what may have been, were his situation of birth different. His eyes are often red and sunken, his pupils small and constantly checking his surroundings, the deep paranoia that comes with sleeplessness long since changing him. The noble green iris is still seen, a glaring contrast to the pale sullen face with their deep green. The cables running into his forehead and temples, even right behind his eyes from the Black crown are somewhat disturbing, the pale skin around their entries strangely unagitated. If he has hair it cannot be seen underneath the black crown covering the top of his head starting at the hairline, can covering his neck and the rest of his head. His face is left free however.

As a primarch he towers above the average man, and is even taller than an ordinary space marine, though is only of average size for a primarch around 12 or 13 feet tall. He is a bit taller when in his power armour, but still only 12 feet tall, meaning he is only average for a primarch in size. His armour is in the colours of his legion, though a fair bit more ostentatious, it is based on the Maximus pattern armour design molecular bonding studs and all with the helmet being virtually the same as others, for all but the carved black crown of thorns attached to it, with lines of black blood painted as falling from it. In addition, the helm bears a pair of noble bone white antlers, but they are twisted and warped and covered in thorns and its tips blackened. 

He also has a great mantle, covered in a deep red, black and shock yellow fur and feathers. The mantle once belonged to the leader of the Dark Eldar Kabal who took him, and is his trophy from killing him. The strange pattern and fur mixed with feathers is from some beast in the arenas of Commorragh which Mon-Kal had killed long ago, and the Cabals leader had it skinned and made into a huge mantle for himself. To Mon-Kal, it was like taking back something that had long ago been stolen, and he wears it as often as he can, the tough warp-beasts hide able to withstand the dangers of combat. His signature weapons, a Thundr hammer and Lightning claw, only add to his intimidating stature as a man of war.

[hider=The Black Scepter, The Kings Claw]
[i]The Black Scepter-[/i] A master crafted thunder hammer the Black Scepter was forged on mars many millennia ago during the dark age of technology. The Thunder hammer is unlike its fellows in both form and somewhat in function. It is huge and rounded at the top rather than in the form of a true hammer. The massive mallet like hammer is far more powerful than its more common counterparts, the power field generated on impact is able to crack terminator armor and even a dreadnought Sarcophagus. It is black as the void, and half as tall as Mon-Kal himself.

[i]The Kings Claw-[/i] An ancient Lightning claw, crafted shortly before the unification wars on Terra. The Guantlet's fingers compose the massive shimmering claws, each is a deep crimson like the guantlet itself. The gauntlet is on his left had, and attached to it is a linked Plasma gun.
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[b]Personality:[/b] Mon-Kal is a sullen man. He is brooding, cruel, quick to anger, suspicious of others and generally not the most pleasant of people. However, he is not all doom and gloom. At his finest of times he could easily be described as melancholy and introspective, he is most often in states like this. He could also be described as self interested in a way, though far from selfish. The only type of people he was exposed to for most of his life were the heinous Dark Eldar, and more than a few of their traits have rubbed off on him, but have been tempered by his logical mind. He is prone to acts of what to many see as needless cruelty or punishment, but he does not do anything without first thinking it through. Every act is calculated and planned, concise and with purpose. Even when enraged he thinks this way, breaking apart any situation analytically, and going with the most logical course of action according to his values and core beliefs. Many find this combination of cold logic with cruel passion to be strange and off putting, but Mon-Kal does not seem to care.

[b]Skills:[/b] Mon-Kal is an extremely adaptable Primarch. His many years in the Gladiator pits of Commorragh taught him to be ready for any possible combat situation, and so he has developed a combat doctrine of adaptability, flexibility and forward planning. He has a fair amount of skill in most types of war and combat from grand strategy, to small unit tactics, to personal combat. However, his knowledge is more practical than learned, leading his strategies to seem needlessly rough and unrefined compare to other more classically trained generals. He waged a war all on his own, and needed many strategies to win it, but they are not tempered by the wars of the past or rules of strategy. They are forged in the same way one would forge a makeshift knife, often rough and unrefined but effective and brutal nonetheless. He truly excels at no particular form of combat, preferring to remain generally good at most all of them. However, his personal weapons do show a leaning ever so slightly to melee combat, being a pair of power-fists.

He also shows a great deal of aptitude at long term planning and oration, able to bandy words with great scholars despite his lack of scholarly knowledge, his speeches are from a more 'grassroots' perspective, but are well said and articulated nonetheless.
Psyker assignment level - Rho(Ordianry human levels)

[b]Biography:[/b] The Primarch that would become Mon-Kal drifted through the warp just as his brothers and sisters had, no ability to control where he may end up. Had he landed upon a more civilized world, one where nobility ruled and he could be placed in such a structure who knows what he may have become? A noble Statesman and fine general? A great leader of men? These questions hardly matter, for they will never be answered, for the Primarch did not land on such a world... he landed on Seraphim Prime. The child who would become Mon-Kal landed in one of its many peat-swamps, and was quickly found and attacked by one of the dangerous beasts who inhabit them, which he slew handily. It was then that the Dark Eldar found the obviously exceptional human child and took him. In truth Seraphim could not be called his home, for he was raised in the Dark city in the Webway, Commorragh. The child Primarch grew quickly and showed his resilience and resistance to his masters. To hopefully nullify this the cruel device known as the 'Black Crown' was cybernetically implanted into Mon-Kal, and he was thrown into the arenas. There he fought the many terrible beasts and other things the Dark Eldar brought in for entertainment. When he was not fighting, he was often the subject of the Dark Eldars cruel experiments and torture's, pushing the Primarchs body to its very limits of cruelty. It was here that he grew up, and it was here that he grew to despise the Eldar.

His only companions were the other humans often thrown into the pits. Gladiators, warriors from all over the milky way, and often dead by the second day... all but one that is. Mephisto, a massive man from some unknown world became the brother of the growing Primarch, and it was he who taught Mon-Kal of humanity. Its language, what history he knew of his world, technology and other things. They created a bond of brothers forged in the cruelty of the Dark Eldar, and it would prove to be the Capricious xenos down-fall. Together, they planned to escape. Often when the Gladiators were not fighting or being tortured they would be used as cannon fodder in Eldar Raids, and as the cabal that had kidnapped the two of them most often raided Seraphim it was here that they were used... and it was here they would escape. During a raid on the world the two broke their restraints and slaughtered their captors, escaping into the nightmarish swamps.

Several months later, after the Eldar believed they had died, a rebellion began starting from the swamps with Mon-Kal and Mephisto at its head. What followed was an exceptionally brutal and cruel war, with Mon-Kal running his own soldiers into the grave in order to keep pace with the Masters. Slowly but surely he gained momentum with the rebellion, until it came to his ambitious plan to take the world's capital city. His plan was well made, but dangerous nonetheless, as it required attacking the most heavily guarded city on Seraphim with his significantly less trained and equipped rebels. It was then that Emperor found him, and offered him his armies to help end the war quickly, in exchange for his fealty and agreement to help the Emperor conquer the galaxy with his Grim Crusade. Mon-Kal agreed, and the Capital was quickly taken, the Dark Eldar and the human forces their unprepared for the might of the growing Imperium. After the Dark Eldar were driven away, Mon-Kal was presented with the Third Legion of the Adeptus astartes. In addition, his aging brother Mephisto, though too old to become a true space marine, was given what Space marine organs he could and augmented to an acceptable amount to join Mon-Kal on the crusade as his second in command.

Upon being given his legion, Mon-Kal's first act was to declare that every battle brother pass a set of trials on the planet of Seraphim to prove his worth to the Legion. The horrific trials were largely modeled after the experiences Mon-Kal had on Commorragh, and the final one was a fight for survival in a mock coliseum. Fully 10% of the Legion did not survive the harsh and brutal trials, but those that had survived the nightmarish tests were far more like their Primarch; Vicious, brutal, logical and cruel.

[b][u]The meeting[/u][/b]
[hider=Mon-Kal meets the Emperor]
"Here", Mon-Kal's massive finger pressed against the map of the planet, falling on the capital city, "This is where we need to hit them. It's the only city where we don't have inroads, and that traitorous fat-pig bastard of a ruler sides with them... along with his army.", the rebels in the tent exchanged worried looks, all but Mephisto, "Mon-Kal that is suicide! The masters and the fat-pigs armies will have us outnumbered. If we attack them head on they will-", Mon-kal interrupted his old ally, "Mephisto, we are not going to attack them directly. The fat-pig wants to hide behind his walls? Let him! We will draw out the masters, the second grouping will attack the gates, and when they have sustained significant casualties they will begin to retreat. The Masters will be unable to resist the terrified prey, they will embark on their skimmers and chase them down. Then, they will be unready, pulled into the killzone. I expect the second grouping will sustain at least fifty percent casualties, though realistically it will seventy-five to Eighty percent. The other groupings losses will be minimal, and I surmise our opponents will take ninety-five to one hundred percent casualties. The fat-pig will grow scared without the masters, and irrational... then we can strike at him.", Mon-Kal looked at his Lieutenants, the commander of the second grouping had obviously excused himself, the others had their gazes cast down, all but Mephisto at least. Mephisto sighed, pushing himself up, "Very well Mon-Kal... we will prepare...", and with that his leadership filed out of the tent. They were tired, and hungry, and low on ammunition and moral, but they had no choice... of that Mon-Kal was certain. To let the fat-Pig and the Master's wait for whatever reinforcements would arrive from Commorragh was folly, they had to strike now.

He wished they were all like him and Mephisto often, so weak many of them were. Afraid to die, afraid to fight, afraid of the Masters, afraid of something. Mephisto and Mon-Kal came from the Masters how, where nightmares were a reality so they were scared of nothing, they were stronger and faster, and Mon-Kal was better than Mephisto by leagues and he had started this... all of it. His eyes, red and cracked from lack of sleep, continued to scan the map looking for anything he might have missed and calculating the coming losses and the coming gains... in the back of his mind he planned for the future, for when the masters were dead and cast aside and all but Mon-Kal were slaves  no longer. He was broken from his musings by the sound of the tent flap swishing open, and he knew no one but Mephisto could have entered, for no one else was that large... though he sounded a bit bigger. "Mephisto, we do not need to leave until morning why are you already in y-", a strange figure stood before him, as massive as he was, possibly larger and hidden in a heavy hooded cloak. Immediately Mon-Kal had his hand on the hilt of his knife, staring the man down, "Who are you? You are not a part of my rebellion... are you a servant of the Masters? Where are my gua-", the figure interrupted him, seemingly ignoring the questions, "So it is you... you could be no one else, tell me what is your name?", Mon-Kal narrowed his eyes, what was this? "I am Mon-Kal, the leader of rebellion to overthrow the masters, I-", again, the man interrupted, "The Eldar.", Mon-Kal cocked an eyebrow, "Eldar? What is an El-", the man continued to interrupt Mon-Kal, "The Masters are the Eldar. A Xenos race on the brink of extinction, they once ruled the Galaxy and now they raid the settlements of mankind...", he seemed deep in thought.

By now Mon-Kal had taken his hand away from his knife, if whoever this was intended him harm he already would have tried. "Who... who are you?", and now the being seemed to address Mon-Kal directly, "I am the answer to your problem my son. I am the man who brings you a true army, I am the Emperor of Mankind.", Mon-Kal stared at the man as the cloak fell from his shoulders and he drew to his full height. He was larger than even Mon-Kal, flowing black hair and Piercing blue eyes, who really was this man?
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[hider='The Black Crown']
An explanation of what the Black Crown is and how it affects Mon-Kal

The Black crown - An extremely advanced piece of Xeno-tech, this cybernetic 'enhancement' was created by a particularly cruel Homonculus to deal with stronger more 'rowdy' slaves, and was hence used on the Primarch. The device has a rather sleek look to it, as it is Eldar tech, at first glance the crown is a sort of black 'hood' that clings to the users head, wrapping around their head and neck, but leaving their forhead and face visible. Most of its inner workings are not visible, but a myriad of cables can be seen running out of the hood and piercing into the users forehead, running through the skull into the brain. The device is cruel in its nature, serving to attempt to keep its victim more docile when they must be, and enraged while fighting in the pits. To accomplish this the hood has a rather advanced system in place, in order to block different sensory perceptors and enhance others. The greatest effect this has on most is a scattering of any rational thought, to be replaced by a constantly activated 'fight or flight' survival instinct by aggravating the parts of the brain focused on aggresion, fear, and pain.

But, a Primarch is something it was never designed for. In short, it did not work... at least not the way it was meant to. It aggravated the correct parts of his brain yes, but a Primarch's will is stronger, and even through the constant pain, and its attempt to force him into base survival instincts, the Primarch could resist it and was able to retain his raational, and quite analytical mind. Had he been dropped anywhere else, perhaps he could have made a truly great leader and statesman, a brilliant strategist and talented organizer... but he was not dropped on such a planet, he was dropped on one of the hunting grounds for the Dark Eldar, and taken to Commorragh. His analytical mind was tinged with the cruelty and ingenuity needed to survive on Comorragh... and of course the Black Crown's influence. So his mind was turned to determine the best paths for escape, how best to take apart an opponent, and what resources he had at his disposal.
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[hider=The Bloody Host]
[b]Legion Name:[/b] The Bloody Host

[b]Legion Strength:[/b] 78,000 Space Marines, and a massive contingent of the Imperial army as well as Legion Serfs and servitors

[b]Warcry:[/b] [i]"We are Death! The Destroyer of Worlds!"[/i]

[b]Symbol:[/b] A black crown of thorns atop a severed head

[b]Legion number:[/b] I

[b]Armour appearance:[/b]
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[img]http://i.imgur.com/qPDEzuv.jpg[/img]
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The Bloody host have an armour scheme that bellies their name. The armour is by and large the color of freshly clooded flesh, a dark crimson colour for their chest, legs and arms are all red, the details however are picked out in black. Their helmets is similarly bone white, but their pauldrons are black. The most common mark is maximus, but there are plenty of Crusade and Iron patterns as well.

[b]Favoured tactics/Battlefield role:[/b] The Bloody Host follow the tenets of their Primarch and Geneseed, Logical and analytical battlefield adaptability. The Legion is trained to be as tactically flexible as they can, preferring to study their opponent before countering their strategies and Slowly and Methodically obliterating every single part of them. The Legion pride themselves on their ability to adapt to most situations, and on their characteristic brutality. Once a weakness is discovered in an opponent's tactics the Bloody Host will cruelly and mercilessly exploit it, making sure to destroy everything in their path, taking their time to go out of their way and ensure their enemies total annihilation. However, their flexibility is innately inflexible, as ironic as that statement seems. It is possible, for a particularly clever or insightful enemy, to notice the patterns clearly present in their maneuvers and switches and tactics to exploit them, but this is difficult to say the least.

[b]Legion Characteristics/Ideology:[/b] The Legion bellies it's Primarch as in all things, being a particularly sullen and melancholic bunch, prone to anger and cruelty. They are brutal and logical in their approach to most all things, letting their minds analyze the situations and following the best path they can. They are utterly loyal to their Primarch, even after his brutal trials leading to decimation. They believe their father Primarch is harsh to make prepare them, cruel to strengthen their bodies, and sullen to keep their senses sharp. There is little to no questioning of their Primarch, and his word is often treated as law, for to question hims is to invite harsh and just punishment, and to follow him is to fight and die in glory. They are very nearly fanatical about their Primarch, sometimes inviting the suspicion of others, who they are suspicious of in return, believing there can only be safety in paranoia

[b]Hated enemy:[/b] As Mon-Kal, the Bloody Host despises the Dark Eldar with a fervour unmatched, and intend to be the legion to discover the Dark city Commorragh, and burn it to the ground with their glorious Primarch Father.

[hider=Dramatis Personae]
[hider=Mephisto, Captain of the First company]
Originally a human gladiator who fought alongside Mon-Kal in the arenas. Acted as a father and brother figure in those Dark Times and assisted both in their escape from the Dark Eldar and the subsequent rebellion against them. By the time the Emperor arrived Mephisto was quite old, but Mon-Kal insisted he be made into a space marine. So, after being given juvenant treatments and implanted with the necassary implants, Mephisto was made into a Space Marine of the Bloody Host and immediately named Captain of the First company and Mon-Kal's second in command. He is completely hairless and his face is pale and square, his eyes are pinpoits if hate and cruelty.
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[hider=Temelius, keeper of the Thorn]
Brother Temelius bears a wholly unique roll within the Bloody host, being the carrier of a pillaged Dark Eldar weapon known simply as [i]Thorn[/i]. The massive and artfully crafted Greatsword seems to emit a strange null field, that seems to burn anyone with Psyker powers simply by being near. Temelius is the only one who is able to wield it as he is a null, or blank so its field has no effect on him. His armour is wholly unique to reflect his purpose, metallic silver thorned vines wind over his armor, and his helm is is a dark black like his pauldrons. Beneath the armour he is pale like most of the legion, a close cropped black mohawk his only feature of note. He is somewhat strange of disposition, possibly due to being a blank... or perhaps his isolation as even Space Marines are disturbed by his presence.
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[hider=Head Exsequor Kor-Yarrith, the Back Breaker]
Reclusiarch of the Bloody Host, the Exsequor Kor-Yarrith is called the Bloody Lash due to his extreme methods of leadership. He has been known to dole out harsh punishment to those who fail in their duties or even those who are too slow to complete their assignments and orders. His brutal leadership has led to an extremely tough personal detachment of Bloody Host Veterans known as the 'Overseers', a group of Terminator's who enforce the Head Exsequor's orders. Mon-Kal encourages such tyrannical rule, believing it will strengthen his marines. Kor-Yarrick himself wears a suit of Cataphractii pattern Terminator armor and wields a Thunder hammer and Combi-Bolter. He is raely seen outside of his armor, but his face is heavily scarred.
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