[hider=XIV Primarch][h1][color=8882be][center]Asura Fong[/center][/color][/h1]
[center][b]Master of Blades[/b][/center]

[b]Gender:[/b] Male 

[b]Homeworld:[/b] Baigok - A Civilised World similar to ancient Terra with a vast body of water adorned by continental landmasses and governed by a global hegemony  

[b]Appearance:[/b] Fierce falcon-like eyes of hazel pupils below sharp raven brows strike an everpresent, perceiving gaze into all around him. Chin and jaw chiseled to such perfection there could be left not an inch of doubt regarding their sculptor's divine excellence, Asura is a mythical demigod of Ancient Terra in the flesh. His stature at 11.5 feet, his physique is a clear indication of his divine purpose in the world. Sleek curves blend with angular precision to form a streamlined musculature reminiscent of a masterfully crafted blade.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/bANAOhM.jpg[/img][/center]

[b]Personality:[/b] Asura is first and foremost his own champion. Unapologetically straightforward and self-assured to the point of arrogance, he takes the fight to the enemy. Literally. Always on the frontlines, he personally prosecutes his wars with frightening speed and precision, blitzing through campaigns in a single-minded, perhaps primitive, perception of war as a struggle to decapitate the enemy or be decapitated yourself. He may leave the seeds of insurrection behind but in his mind, the foe has been cut to pieces and thus next war awaits. But where one would expect the blind accumulation of battlefield glories to decorate his very persona, Asura is unexpectedly lacking in his boasts. He is an artist of the duel, a grandmaster of the blade and only through confrontation with the greatest of foes does he find fulfillment in the eternal pursuit of perfection. A more cynical perspective however, and one much less voiced if said person has any sense of self-preservation, could be that he has done more than enough for his deeds to boast for themselves. Regardless, the Primarch himself is a silently charismatic champion on the battlefield, the sound of the slaughter that ensues from his presence heralding his presence for all foes, a challenge in itself to try and take his head if they can. Glory follows but not for his enemies.  

[b]Skills:[/b]

[b]Champion Duelist:[/b] A swordsman of such ability that he is known throughout the galaxy even amongst xenos, Asura has challenged and successfully defeated a myriad of foes from mighty Ork warbosses to Aeldari Howling Banshees to even Incubi Hierarchs. His sword strokes are a blur even to the eyes of a Primarch, his style all-encompassing and everchanging in the thick of combat. He is a champion of Mankind and he ends whole wars in single combat. 

[b]Master Bladesmith:[/b] He is steeped in every aspect of the blade. Greatswords, sabres, double-headed battle axes, twin daggers, Asura's forge is a place where weapons fit for the gods are created from the sweat of a demigod. The blades he forges are each unique in aspect from one another. Where one may be a tool of pure, unadulterated destruction, the other may be a thing of subtlety, a dormant creature that erupts into a ferocious apex predator when unsheathed from its scabbard. 

[b]Tactical Instinct:[/b] Asura's mind processes swathes of information from his immediate surroundings in the heat of battle. His every movement is a calculated act of positioning that optimises his path of slaughter in a way that gives him the best killing stroke while covering him from anticipated threats such as a sniper's shot. His tactical acumen lends itself well to his style of up-close-and-personal warfare.

[b]Shock Combat:[/b] It comes as no surprise that Asura's preferred method of waging war is shock warfare. He personally leads his Legion in the use of shock tactics against the enemy, committing everything to a rapid surgical strike deep into the enemy. This philosophy of war is also executed in void war, his fleets always seeking a clean decapitation of the enemy flagship. This can even involve Asura himself personally teleporting aboard an enemy ship with his full bodyguard retinue. 

[b]Assignment Grade:[/b] A Beta level psychic being, Asura possesses the gift of prescience, a gift he can consciously control though it is limited to his focus on the enemies he can perceive in the immediate moment. In combat, he can perceive the trajectories that a projectile can take or see a sword stroke before it is even made. This power can be extended to others with a gifted ally finding their sword strokes swifter and stronger. 

[b]Biography:[/b]

He descended from the heavens wreathed in fire and the fury of the gods. His arrival was chanced upon by a man who'd raise the young Asura up though not in a way any traditional parent would. Baigok was a world ruled by a global hegemony known as the Heavenly Council, each member of the council the scion of a powerful dynasty. The world had known nothing but peace for decades, the Council enacting policies of extreme state surveillance on its own people backed by a formidable military in a world of relatively advanced technology with cybernetics, STC pattern weapons and vehicles and pre-spacefaring aircraft. Slavery was the norm with society being divided into castes all the way up to the Council dynasties themselves. Entertainment was prevalent in the debauched pleasure dens of Baigok's cities but the mainstay were the arenas in which the blood games were held. 

Asura's "father" had been a poor slaver, beset by debts and disowned by the main branch of a much more well off family. He saw Asura not as a son but as chattel, a gift from the heavens after he'd sold off all his former slaves, whatever few he had anyways. Whatever his moral faults, the man prepared Asura for a life of violence from the outset, training the young Primarch as his own prized gladiator. Asura grew unnaturally quickly much to the slaver's shock and pleasure and once Asura was the size of an adult man, he was thrown in the deep end.

The arenas of Baigok were spectacles to behold, each one designed to accommodate a myriad of "games" from survival mazes to underground fighting cages. Asura was but one of millions of designated chattel for the entertainment of a degenerate society. He killed his fellow men at first, becoming more of a spectacle as he grew and grew, the 'Fighting Titan' his slaver father marketed him as. The games he partook in became more dangerous. He'd face cybernetically enhanced foes in single combat, escape a forest filled with death traps all the while fighting off fellow competitors and the drugged up predator beasts sent to kill them. 

His success made his slaver father very wealthy and consequently the man saw fit to invest some of that wealth back into Asura. He lived in a cell like the slave he was but it was a rather spacious cell and adorned with everything he'd need to prepare himself for the next "game". He mastered many blades as a gladiator, developing a taste for the scimitar. Winning so many fights and games until he was reputed to be unstoppable, even his slaver father ceded to whatever demands Asura made. He was even gifted with things he had not asked for from material luxuries to offerings of women though he felt no desire for things beyond that of the blade. 

Asura had become an icon of Baigok. He was a champion of the people, particularly his fellow slaves. This did not escape the near omnipresent gaze of the ruling Council. The games became increasingly more dangerous, more traps and greater foes. If they thought the Fighting Titan a fool then it would prove to be their greatest mistake. Asura knew what was happening but he bided his time. 

The greatest arena of them all was the Pantheon of Shanglai, based in the heart of the largest metropolis of Baigok. The events held in this arena were said to be bigger than the rest, more spectacular than any other. Only the upper castes were granted the privilege of witnessing the strongest champions from across the world compete for the favour of the Council. Asura had been the reigning champion for years though of all things offered, freedom had never been something he'd asked for. Only weapons, armour, riches but never freedom. 

It was on the final night of a grand series of events in the Pantheon's arena that much of the world came to watch either live or from pixelated live screens. This night had been advertised to be greater than all previous final nights for Asura wouldn't be facing just any foe. He'd be facing a gathering of the best gladiator fighters of Baigok, all arrayed against him at once. Even 1 man, however much of a giant he is, would buckle before a host of tens of thousands strong. It would be his ultimate undoing they said. 

When Asura stepped onto the arena, it was to the cheers of a whole arena. But to the Primarch, the cheers and claps of the spectators were empty, tinged not with admiration for Baigok's greatest gladiator champion but of fear instead. He sensed their sweat and their anticipation. Their anticipation of his death. The Primarch smiled when the great slabs of ferrocrete before him on the opposite side of the arena slid open. Shadows danced in the darkness within. The crowd, hundreds of thousands of them, stood up and screamed. The members of the Council that were in attendance on a patron's box in the lowest tier of the spectator's ring stood up and clapped. Clapped for what would be their champions. Their executioners. 

But what emerged instead wasn't the thousands of enhanced alpha gladiators everyone had been expecting. No, what emerged instead was a shuffling of hundreds of horribly mutilated and freshly scarred men in the armour of the Pantheon's guards. The gladiators themselves? They emerged from the dozens of entrances to the spectator rings above Asura, bloodied but grinning grins of pure malevolence. The crowd really screamed then. Closing his eyes, Asura even made out the voice of his adoptive father amongst them. 

The night that ensued would be known as the Night of Blood. Tens of thousands of gladiator slaves poured into the greatest metropolis of Baigok, slaughtering countless civilians until the remaining Council members that had not been attendance in the Pantheon organized and set their military against the rampaging slave army. A violent and bloody war would break out, sweeping the continents of Baigok for years. In the end, the slaves of the world vastly outnumbered their masters and through grinding attrition warfare alone, freedom prevailed. 

Asura had united the world of Baigok as its gladiator-king. The arenas remained but this time, it would be the upper caste and their descendants who'd fill the role of the competitors. The prize? Their lives. Wars would still follow for though the Heavenly Council was an oppressive authority, it nonetheless had established iron law and order upon the world. The Primarch was no statesman, he abhorred legislation and matters of governance. He was, however, a very good killer. 

After crushing a series of organized enemy armies that challenged his right to rule, Asura was undisputed as the master of the world. Able to harness the manpower of millions, the Primarch looked to the stars, envisioning the day he'd come to them. But he never expected the stars to come to him.

[b]The Meeting:[/b]

He was the master of a world. But what was that to the master of the stars? His great crimson cloak billowed behind him, draped around burdensome black armour free of ornamentation; once a symbol of his status as a gladiator-slave but was now a symbol of his status as gladiator-king, as much an object of his regality as a throne was. Around his waist was a thick brown strap from which a curved scabbard rested. Adorned by emerald jewels shaved to pointed studs and laced with reflective gold tint, Asura's favoured blade was sheathed snug within, able to be drawn quicker than the blink of an eye by its wielder. Tipped steel boots echoed where he strode in the palace, his servants careful to avoid being trodden on by their giant of a master. 

Perhaps he'd always been destined for something more after all. There had been none of his ilk in all the world, no matter how much he'd devoted for an answer. Any answer would have sufficed but to have none at all beyond the empty shell that was speculation was as existentially maddening as discovering the man you'd once thought a father had never really been a father in the first place. Enslaved as a baby, his purpose purported to be solely that of a slave warrior, the man seemed truly pitiful in retrospect. Asura had long forgotten his name and face, irrelevant details that were worth forgetting.

The pod he'd arrived in had been taken apart, the pieces melted for whatever debauched utility the slavers desired of it. Alchemy he had supposed. He couldn't really ask anymore, not after he'd killed them all. So he'd remained with the question since birth. Since...now. When it was finally answered for him in a way he'd never had predicted. Fitting that it was in such grandiose a manner too. His people had bowed immediately. How promptly they'd done so. Asura had known He was coming for him. He didn't need anyone to inform of that. It was an instinctual feeling, an acknowledgement of a presence that should not belong yet did belong.

His radiance seeped through the entrance like cascading gold sheets of silk. Asura stubbornly held fast even as the presence Himself entered the chamber. Before him was a being wreathed in fiery glamour, adorned in gold-gilded panoply of an armour that hummed a tune of vaguely recognisable notes. Power exuded off him, unintentionally or not, it bathed the Primarch in its strangely familiar warmth. Asura looked at the Emperor and the Emperor looked at Asura. Words unspoken passed between the pair. 

Asura narrowed his eyes, his raven-black brows furrowing as he grit his teeth behind a thin lipped smile. No word nor gesture had been expressed yet there had come an urge over the gladiator-king. It implored him to bow to such divine majesty, to bend the knee and acknowledge the impossibly overwhelming presence gripping Asura in its gaze. But Asura resisted with all his might. Bow? Why would he bow? Why [i]should[/i] he bow? He was a free man, a slave nevermore. The steel-like muscle-fibers of his massive chest tensed. 

"What are you?" Asura asked, his voice strained. 

The Emperor smiled, "You have an idea, do you not?"

"I'd like to hear it from you regardless."

"I am the Emperor of Mankind. I am your Creator."

Voices and sound streamed into his mind like a floodgate bursting open. Recollections of images, scenes that he'd relegated to the depths of dreamstate, sharpened and became clear for the first time. Asura's right hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, choler swelling up from within him, unnerved by his own memories. If the Emperor thought anything of Asura's belligerence, he did not show it.

"What...what is my purpose?" 

His creator stared at him for a moment that spanned eternity. It was neither scrutinizing nor inquisitive. The Primarch could glean nought from his face. 

When He at last spoke, it was with the finality of fate. "You will be my general. You will wage war across the stars in my name. You will be my greatest champion."

Asura gave a single, near-imperceptible nod. Then he knelt before the Emperor of Mankind. When he looked up, the Primarch saw the face of a pleased man before him.

[/hider]

[hider=XIV Legion][h1][color=8882be][center]The Dread Lords[/center][/color][/h1]
[center][b]Formerly known as the Space Dragons[/b][/center]

[b]Legion Number:[/b] XIV

[b]Legion Strength:[/b] 85,000 Astartes Warriors, 350 Imperial Knights of House Gambrige

[b]Armour Appearance:[/b] [center][img]https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EQMFNJ5WkAAoIZM.jpg[/img][/center]

[b]Warcry:[/b] "Dread My Blade!" "Take Their Heads!" "We Are Asura's Wrath!" "To Pieces! Cut Them To Pieces!"

[b]Dramatis Personae:[/b] 

[list][*]First Captain Sunsu Kan - Captain of the 1st Company and Praetor of the XIV Legion 

[*]Chief Librarius Gao Zi 

[*]Chief Apothecary Caron Maek

[*]Knight Harien - Scion Dolorous of House Gambrige[/list]

[b]Favored Tactics/Battlefield Role:[/b] The Dread Lords are the shock troops of the Imperium, taking the fight to the enemy through blitzing fast shock assaults. Masters of close quarters combat, the Dread Lords operate best as a rapid assault strikeforce, conducting operations with speed and precision and a doctrine that demands nothing less than the total annihilation of the enemy.  

In open battle, they execute mass mechanized assaults on the enemy, their practice of armoured warfare a proven and admired trait of the Legion. However, mechanized warfare is merely a tactical aspect of their combat doctrine and the killing strike in any Dread Lords offensive will always be inserting their Legionaries deep into the ranks of the enemy to conduct brutal close combat action. 

In planetary assaults, the Dread Lords will execute massed drop-pod deployment, often under extensive danger-close orbital bombardments. Dread Lord tactical operations against conventional enemy targets often involve reconnaissance units that are used to probe the enemy positions for a vulnerability with lightning assaults being executed against any possible target. Enemy positions are repeatedly probed by highly mobile Dread Lord assaults until one of the assaults succeed. When successful, the Dread Lords execute a surgical strike onto the position composed of much of their forces. Once in close quarters, the Dread Lords will proceed to tear the enemy within apart in a bloody butcher sparing none. 

The Dread Lords prefer to avoid protracted ranged battles particularly siege-warfare. When deployed against an entrenched enemy such as a Hive City, the Dread Lords would either call upon the aid of a brother or sister Legion more adept at siege warfare or execute extensive orbital bombardment on the target. If orbital bombardment fails to breach the target, the Dread Lords will tend to withdraw from the battlefield then proceed to enact Exterminatus extremis on the enemy planet, a highly controversial action even for a Space Marine Legion but one that fits within their purview of total annihilation.

In void war, the Dread Lords conduct their assaults with a focus on ship-to-ship boarding actions. The Legion employs a very crude and reputedly barbaric device known as Ursus Claws, barb harpoons that are the size of an Escort ship. Fired at the hull of an enemy ship, these immense harpoons lock onto the insides of the enemy ship via magnetism. The Dread Lords ship then pulls the chains of the harpoon back, dragging the enemy ship along with it until it is within reach for Dread Lord Breacher squads and Terminator teams to assault. 

Dread Lord Legionaries conduct close quarters warfare with an eery aura of calm about them. A favoured approach of the Dread Lords when assailing enemies in close quarters would be to march silently toward their foes. Their stride would be relentless and unbroken even once engaged in combat. They'd cut to pieces any foe in their way while continuing to march onward and this abnormal silence and the ease in which they'd dispatch their enemies while marching would rout many enemy armies though by then it'd be too late for the Dread Lords would break into a massed charge and run their enemies down into pieces. 

Imperial Army auxilia assigned to the Dread Lords Legion often take a support role in any direct combat engagement with Army infantry assigned to "cleanup" duties after the Dread Lords have extracted from the battlefield.

When deployed against a non-Compliant human world, the Dread Lords are known to be particularly ruthless, moreso than other Legions, in their execution of restoring Compliance. Once organized enemy resistance has been crushed, the Legion examines the extent to which the world has defied the Emperor and a punishment befitting of the crime is swiftly enacted. Whole cities have been razed to the ground and their populations butchered by the Dread Lords just for the crime of religious fervour, even if it is worship of the Emperor.

[b]Legion Characteristics/Ideology:[/b] Only the strong rule the XIV Legion. Even before the Primarch Asura returned to his Legion, the warriors of the XIV had always been a brotherhood defined by one's martial prowess on the battlefield and the concept of a warrior guided by a code of honour and ethics. However, their Primarch personally cut away characteristics of the Legion he felt detrimental to the Legion's purpose as a bloody and brutal instrument of the Emperor's will. Asura placed upon the Dread Lords a simple code from which all were to abide by; There is no surrender in battle. The foe deserves nothing but total and complete destruction. Butcher the enemy to pieces or be butchered in turn. 

Glory is materialized in the form of the killcounter. The purging of the Emperor's enemies, in whatever shape and appearance they took, was the ultimate personal glory. Dread Lord Legionaries fight with extreme savagery, merciless to anyone they are set upon. They do not ask for nor grant mercy beyond a efficient and effective death. They shall be the dread of the Emperor's enemies and where they march, pieces of the enemy shall be strewn about like a bloody red abattoir. 

The XIV Legion are known for their gladiator arenas. Their arenas are ever-changing dueling fields from gladiator pits to an elevated ferrocrete platforms so high up that even an Astartes may injure themselves if they fall of it. Though promotions and rank are determined by raw fighting prowess and leadership on the battlefield, sometimes disagreements break out between warriors. Dread Lords can settle disputes between their brothers in an arena with all duels expected to be to the death, such is the culture of the XIV Legion where personal honour is treated with such value though by only the most serious of disagreements will ever result in a Blood Duel. Even out of the battlefield, the bloodthirsty nature of a Dread Lord Legionary and their desire for close combat are managed by personal combat duels in the gladiator arenas common in Dread Lord ships. 

The Dread Lords are known for their tradition of wearing thick chains around their hands and the weapons they wield. Gladiators in Baigok were often sent to fight with their weapons chained on their hands and arms so they wouldn't drop it out of fear. Legionaries wear their chains in close combat and in duels, it is a popular warrior tradition in the Legion. 

Baseline humans are viewed as lesser than an Astartes in the art of war and it is why Imperial Army auxilia attached to the XIV Legion are almost always in a support element role. Asura does not preach compassion for humans. There is no mercy spared by a XIV Legionary when slaughtering a non-Compliant human population for the Emperor's will is absolute and the Dread Lords are an instrument of that will. 

The XIV Legion view themselves as the sword of the Emperor and thus adhere strictly to his will including the Imperial Truth. Religion is treated with the utmost disdain and the Legion is known for their zero-tolerance policy of religious fervour even if it is worship of the Emperor. A religious populace can expect the same treatment from the Dread Lords as a non-Compliant populace; total annihilation by their blades. 

Blood Duels are something every Legionary in the XIV is familiar with. Aspirants are always pitted against another foe in an arena, usually another Aspirant though the Legion does get creative with the kind of opponent an Aspirant faces. Armed with a melee weapon of their choice but with no bodily protection, Aspirants fight for their lives. Legion Apothecaries often rebuild the crippled bodies of most Aspirants and these fortunate few go on to become Neophytes. Their trials will only intensify in hardship from there for the XIV continually tests its recruits with gladiatorial contests and live-fire exercises, a single mistake could mean death for a XIV recruit and it is through such harsh training that the Legion weeds out those who are worthy of becoming a Dread Lord. The Legion is not averse to recruiting from primitive Feral and Feudal worlds its fleets come across, such practice called a "Blood Tithe" in which potential Aspirants are drawn from the world's masses. The Dread Lord's training regimen prepare a recruit in all forms of conventional warfare and it is only as a full-fledged Astartes does close quarters combat form a core of their training. Internal combat competitions within the Legion is common with the Primarch Asura himself overseeing matches between companies, these exercises intended to improve operational effectiveness of all units involved. However, ultimately it will not neither arena nor practice cage but the true battlefield in which a Legionary of the XIV proves himself as a warrior. 

[b]Relationships:[/b] The XIV Legion are a proud and capable legion so when they do request the aid of a brother or sister legion, it will surely be a situation that truly requires the skills of the legion they have requested aid from. In return, their sibling legion can expect the Dread Lords to come to their aid in kind. 

[list][*]Relations with the [b]Daughters of Iron[/b]: The Dread Lords have operated with the Daughters of Iron on previous occasions and both legions share a mutual dislike of one another based on the reputation of the other Legion.
[hr]
[*]Relations with the [b]Stargazers[/b]: The Dread Lords have worked closely and successfully with elements of the Stargazer's macroclade fleets on multiple occasions in the past. There was mutual respect between both Legions for the other's devotion and unflinching service to the Emperor and His will. The Stargazer's zealotry and passion in the field of battle alongside the Dread Lord's ruthless waging of war sent many foes to their demise. 
[hr]
[*]Relations with the [b]Serpents of the Sun[/b]: The Dread Lords and the Serpents have combined their respective shock warfare and maneuver warfare philosophies in the past to incredible success in joint combat operations, truly annihilating any foe unfortunate enough to stand in the way of these 2 Legions. There is a high degree of respect amongst the Dread Lords for their sister Astartes of the XVII however only a select few Dread Lords are even privy to the aspect of faith that is the foundation of their sister Legion. Had the Serpents faith become widespread knowledge, relations between the 2 may not be what it is today. 
[/list] 

The Dread Lord's condescension of the Imperial Army's capabilities in direct action operations is well known. This may cause frosty and even passive hostile relations between other Imperial Army divisions and the Legion though the Legion always gets its way no matter what. 

The bureaucracy of the Imperial government is viewed as an annoyance, a pest that can and should be swatted away lest it hinder combat operations.[/hider]