[hider=Tymos Venatum] [b]Name:[/b] Tymos Venatum [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Homeworld:[/b] Ictar, located in the Segmentum Pacificus and near the border with the Segmentum Obscurus. Ictar was once a pleasant world dominated by a single Pangea, but cataclysmic natural disasters shattered the continent into a fractal landmass and dramatically changed the climate, plunging the humans who dwelled there back thousands of years on the technological timeline. Now, Ictar is covered in scattered islands dotted in a whirling sea. Ictar is icy and frigid, with sub-zero temperatures and heavy snowfall gripping the planet for around 90 percent of its cycle. Most vegetation struggles to grow in the frozen soil and cold air, giving rise to forests of rugged trees. Even more so than the vegetation, Ictar's wildlife has been shaped by the harsh conditions of the world. Great furry predators dominate the land, plaguing settlements and devouring unwitting natives who wander too far into the wilds between villages without ample protection. The sea is home to multiple dangerous reptilian species that make sea travel between islands a challenging task at best. Furthermore, the planet is prone to earthquakes, which in turn has a tendency to cause tidal waves. [b]Appearance:[/b] Like the other Primarchs, Tymos is enormous in size compared to a standard human. However, in comparison to his brothers, Tymos is slightly shorter, standing a little over 10 feet. A combination of warp-altered genetics and the climate of his home planet, Tymos has very little pigmentation, sporting an unsettling combination of a sickly pale complexion and lifeless dark grey-black hair. The skin on his face is weather-beaten from years of cold winds and his facial features are sharp and angular. His small eyes are a deep shade of brown with a dull red tint to them, combining with his pale skin to give him an otherworldly and frankly quite frightening appearance. In terms of his stature, Tymos is more lean and gaunt than some of his more well-built brothers, but the loss of strength is compensated for by greater speed and agility. [b]Personality:[/b] The easiest way to summarise Tymos would be enigmatic. The Primarch of the Black Manticores is notoriously difficult to decipher due to his deeply secretive nature and deliberate unpredictability. Tymos is very picky about what he says and what information he divulges, going as far as to bluntly ignore questions if he is not willing to share the answer. He is constantly analysing and calculating, trying to use his knowledge of psychology to stay two steps ahead and affording himself the ability to seize the initiative and control situations as needed. In the manner that Tymos seeks to understand, influence and control and situations, Tymos can be considered a highly manipulative individual. His unpredictability stems from a desire to be so; by understanding others Tymos looks to calculate what they would expect from him, and then formulate a plan to do the exact opposite and blindside his foes. Tymos is harsh and merciless, willing to do whatever needs to be done in order to achieve victory even if that is at the cost of countless lives. No level of force or violence is considered too extreme, with the Primarch regularly looking to excessive bloodshed to quickly scare enemies into obedience. Tymos, intentionally or not, can be extremely cruel, and there are rumours that he deliberately applies excessive violence in battlefield scenarios because he is a sadist and enjoys doing so. How true this is, is unknown. He can come across as callous and uncaring; he values the lives of his brothers and his sons, and that is about as far as his compassion extends. His grim demeanour, lack of outward expression and odd appearance make being in Tymos' presence a highly unsettling experience. The Primarch of the Black Manticores is somewhat paranoid due to the persistent psychic warnings he receives and is suspicious of others, always trying to calculate their thoughts and feelings not only to best them but also to protect himself from betrayal. People that he struggles to read make Tymos feel uncomfortable and frustrated. This is because Tymos places such a large emphasis on loyalty; having been shown so little in his early years, the loyalty afforded Tymos by his men on Ictar was his most valued possession, and betrayal is Tymos' undisputed biggest fear. As much as he expects loyalty, Tymos gives it; he is fiercely loyal to his brothers, to his sons and to his father, whom Tymos holds in a near-reverence regard. Despite his grim demeanour, callous nature and undeniable tendencies for extreme violence and cruelty, Tymos has the best intentions at heart. While he can be bitter and resentful, Tymos is entirely devoted to the Emperor and would never willingly harm any of his brothers. He sees himself and his legion as loyal tools of the Imperium, willing to cross lines that others would not in the name of the Emperor, and to that end almost sees himself as the Emperor's most loyal servant. His extreme tactics are applied out of necessity rather than desire. Nevertheless, there are many who view Tymos with concern and fear. Tymos does have some good qualities amongst his muddied, dark personality. He is perceptive and adaptable in his thinking, willing to alter plans at a moment’s notice if it would be advantageous. The entire organisation of his legion is designed for maximum adaptability. Tymos is fiercely loyal to people he cares about, including the Emperor and his brother Primarchs. He sees each of his Astartes as his sons and does his best to know his men. Tymos is diligent and will achieve the goals set for him by any means necessary. He will apply himself utterly to solving difficult situations to the point that he can become obsessive. Tymos leads from the front; a hands on commander who inspires his men by leading them into battle himself when possible. He even has a sharp sense of humour and wit, often manifesting as sarcastic quips that are amusing to some, and plainly uncomfortable for others. [b]Skills:[/b] Tymos' understanding of psychology is unparalleled, giving him the capacity to manipulate and predict others and governing every tactical decision he makes. He employs his troops specifically with the goal of utter psychological domination as well as physical and seems to take pleasure in his doing so. Tymos is an agile and furious combatant, never remaining in one place and raining swift blows upon his enemies. A firm grasp of logistics and warfare gives Tymos the ability to use his troops for subterfuge and sabotage. [b]Assignment Grade:[/b] Kappa. Tymos has no ability to consciously control or manifest his psychic powers. However, his psionic abilities often manifest as a sixth sense, almost like a powerful gut feeling that influences his decisions and emotions. Although Tymos is now aware that it is latent psychic power, he previously had suspected it to be a spiritual power. The indications that Tymos receives are far from clear, manifesting as simply as a feeling that something odd was brewing in the days prior to the Emperor's arrival on Ictar to a sense of impending danger. Although it has its bonuses, these indistinguishable feelings of being in danger have helped to make Tymos somewhat suspicious and paranoid. [b]Biography:[/b] Following intervention by the foul powers of the warp, Tymos' gestation pod fell upon the icy feudal world of Ictar in the Vitus System of the Segmentum Tempestus. The world had previously been a successful human colony, but a series of cataclysmic natural disasters caused the single Pangaea on the planet's surface to shatter into a scattered archipelago of varied islands. It was followed by rapid, extreme climate change, fracturing the human settlers on the planet into separate groups and thrusting them back thousands of years to a near medieval level of technology. Over generations, their origins as colonists were forgotten and quarrelling clans formed, battling constantly to seize resources from one another in the harsh, unforgiving conditions. The pod landed in a forest on one of Ictar's largest islands, falling in the icy no man's land between the territories of several rival clans. Tymos was not discovered for over a year. Between the vicious, aggressive wildlife and the extreme cold, the young Primarch, around the size of a six-year old on his landing, should not have survived twenty four hours. Yet through some combination of will, fortune and fate, Tymos managed to live in the dangerous wilds for around fourteen months, blissfully unaware that other human life on the planet even existed. By his first human contact, Tymos had already grown rapidly, reaching the size of a young teenager. Tymos encountered his first humans by chance; stumbling across a group who appeared to be tracking the same dinner that he was. Opting to remain unseen, the young Primarch maintained a safe distance, stalking the group instead as they hunted, observing their behaviour and interactions. He followed them back to their village, a moderately sized ring of wooden spikes surrounding a smattering of thatched-roof huts. Tymos knew nothing about these people; until now he had wholeheartedly believed he was alone in the world. He longed to be one of them but simultaneously did not at all trust his life to them. So instead, he watched and waited, gathering intelligence and learning their patterns, their interactions, their behaviours, spying and learning what it was to be human. Eventually Tymos decided that existing as part of a group, where resources could be shared and numbers provided strength, would be to his benefit. He hunted down a small creature and smothered himself with its blood, using a makeshift blade to tatter his clothing, and stumbled into the encampment feigning injury. His hope was that he would be able to manipulate the humans into feeling sympathy and taking him into their fold. Instead, when Tymos stumbled bloodied and limping into the village calling for help, he was met with an axe blade at his throat. Tymos' arrival split the village in half. The village was the seat of the Iceblood Clan, a savage warrior tribe. Half the population wanted to chop his body into pieces and feed it to their livestock, and the other half wanted to at least wait a few days and see what this bloody stranger truly was before slaughtering him. Tymos immediately regretted his decision, feeling disappointed, alienated and a little betrayed. He had trusted that these people would find the kindness in their hearts to help a wounded teenager, and instead he was caged like an animal, deprived of his freedom and sustained on meagre amounts of food so vile that even a pig would turn its nose up at. In his squalor, Tymos stewed. Anger and bitterness swelled within him. He waited three long days for these humans to make their decision. He was questioned repeatedly; it was through this he learned that there were other clans, rivals and enemies, and they believed Tymos could be a useful bargaining chip. Yet it was evident that the boy, who wholeheartedly believed that this village was the only one of its kind anywhere, knew nothing of other clans. Perplexed but no longer baying for his blood, the elders decided that Tymos would be allowed to stay for the time being. Like his brother Primarchs, Tymos' rise was inevitable. Although Tymos had been eventually accepted, he was not truly one of them. He noticed quickly that all the other boys his age had parents who cared for them, while he was left alone to scavenge his own scraps from what others threw out. Tymos had a lot of time to watch and learn, keenly observing all of the human behaviour from friendly interactions to the backstabbing of clan politics. All the while, Tymos was growing, become taller and stronger. It appeared, among the Iceblood people, strength was power. Those who were successful killers were revered, and those who did not were assigned menial jobs washing clothes and feeding livestock. Realising the only path to earning some respect and a warm dinner was to prove his strength, Tymos began learning how to fight. His time in the wilderness had hardened Tymos, making him remorseless and sharp-witted. He knew how to kill animals in more ways than he could count on two fingers within weeks of his landing. Surely, people would not be too different. He picked fights with other boys his age, beating them with ease. Then bigger boys, a tougher challenge but one he overcame nonetheless. After some time beating other boys bloody for their lunch, some of the clan warriors took note of Tymos and put a wooden sword in his hand, teaching him the art of hand-to-hand combat. From there, the Primarch never looked back. It took a couple of years for Tymos to reach the size of a grown man. It took him a couple years more to reach a height of ten feet, standing head and shoulders above even the biggest men in the clan. He had proven his worth, fighting in countless raids on other clans, spilling blood for no reason more than survival. The clan he fought for made extensive use of sneak attacks and psychological warfare, wearing their enemies down and filling them with terror, and Tymos adopted these philosophies to heart. His imposing size was certainly an asset, but the behemoth wearing a bone mask and storming into another village with his skin covered in blood-drawn patterns was a sight that made even the most hardened raiders fill their drawers on the spot. It was during these years that Tymos met Morael Moon-Born, a fellow warrior. Morael earned Tymos' trust, nicknaming the Primarch 'Tall Tymos'. Despite all the years spent among them, none of the Iceblood people ever treated Tymos like one of their own. They had allowed him to stay, yet fending for himself among them was arguably more challenging than in the wilds. Only once they realised his power did they take any notice of him, and even now they used him as if he was a tool, a human battering ram to be thrown into the fray against other villages regardless of his safety or thoughts on the matter. Tymos did not trust them, focussed solely on his own survival. Seeing the way they would stab each other in the back to get a leg up disgusted him, filling Tymos with suspicion and mistrust during his formative years. Eventually to Tymos, survival seemed an odd goal. A goal for the short-sighted and the narrow-minded, who could not see past tomorrow. Tymos had bigger ambitions. He set his plan in motion, with Morael at his back, and challenged the clan leader to a duel for the position. Tymos made a point of dismantling his opponent, dodging frenzied blow after frenzied blow, staying out of arm's length. His movement was fluid, his mind steady and composed, dodging and sweeping about his opponent. Eventually Tymos' blade began moving, nicking an arm here and a leg there. After a time the blade sunk deeper, catching tendons and muscles, disabling the enraged warrior. Tymos protracted the duel for almost an hour before the man before him, supposedly the village's greatest warrior, kneeled. Tymos had severed both of his hamstrings and broken both of his arms at the elbow, leaving him defenceless. The Primarch loomed over him, almost double his height when standing let alone kneeling, staring down at him with an unfeeling gaze. These people had never shown him mercy nor kindness, and they would earn none in return. He had seen they could not be trusted, and no amount of strength would keep these people in line. Yet an even more effective tool than strength, Tymos had come to find, was fear. The next few hours were literally torturous. The village leader stood tied to a wooden post in the village courtyard, screaming in agony as Tymos worked. He removed nails and teeth, severed fingers and toes, and peeled the man's flesh from his body. Tymos made every man in the village, the warrior caste, come to the fore, take the knife and peel flesh from the body of their former leader lest they wish to suffer the same fate. Tymos took no pride or joy in the horrifying practices that he had made these people witness. Yet he knew that this was what it would take to keep these people in line, and for that he would never be apologetic. If they ever dared to step out of line, he would be more than happy to set another example. It worked. The village fell in line, and others followed. Tymos made a point of similarly executing every village's leader as he and his men conquered first their own island, and then the surrounding ones, and then beyond. The more Tymos butchered, the less resistance they faced, with villagers even greeting him and his men at the gates with their leader bound as a plea to spare the rest of them the bloodshed, another indicator of the fickle and treacherous nature of people to Tymos. He installed new leaders at Morael's recommendation, but would never fully place his trust in any of them for fear of betrayal. With Morael at his side, Tymos blazed a bloody trail across the white snows of Ictar, bringing village after village into his domain. It was not for the sake of bloodshed alone. Tymos developed an effective infrastructure, developing villages into specialized producers of resources that could be shared across his lands, and ensuring justice and peace. Importantly, those that stepped out of line made good examples to ensure others did not follow suit. When the Emperor came, it came as no great shock to Tymos. He had sense something brewing for some time. He had grown bored of Ictar and its pitiful people, and for a few weeks now it had felt like someone was calling out to him from above. In his dreams he had seen golden angels and as the day of the Emperor's arrival drew nearer the feelings intensified. When he came, Tymos accepted his every word without question, always believing he had been born to serve a higher purpose than to oversee some brutes in the snow. In return for his loyalty, Tymos asked that he be allowed to repay the years of faithful, unquestioning service that Morael had given him by taking him away too, a request that the Emperor granted. After some time educating Tymos and preparing him to serve at the forefront of expansion for the Imperium of Man, Tymos was united with the XVIII Legion. When choosing a name, Tymos thought of his time on Ictar. Their apex predator had been the manticore, a foul beast with the body of a great cat and a vicious barbed tail filled with venom. Tymos had worn a Manticore sigil since taking over as leader of his village, and looking at the onyx sigil in his hand, decided that like the beast of his homeworld his own legion would too be apex predators, feared by all. Thus, he redubbed the XVIII as the Black Manticores. The first thing Tymos did was overhaul the legion's training and organisation, redesigning the legion to fit his own military philosophies. He placed an emphasis on flexibility through organisation and set up specialised units to act as a varied toolbox at his disposal; for their is no use for a hammer where a needle is required. He installed many of the traditions he had grown up with into the ideology of the Astartes under his command and rewrote their tactical doctrine to favour subterfuge and terror tactics. Under Tymos, the legion formerly known as the Ghost Legion were reformed into a well-drilled army that wielded fear as effectively as any other marine may wield their bolter. Tymos has led the Black Manticores in service to the Emperor and his crusade ever since. [b]The Meeting:[/b] “Not much further, my lord.” Tymos offered little more than a grunt in reply to the scout, his eyes darting about the wintry gloom of their forested surroundings. The gnarled trees all around them were barren, solidly in the grip of Ictar’s mid-winter. Barren branches stretched desperately upwards towards the dim light of the sun, weaving around each other to form a bizarre interlocking canopy. The forest floor was almost as bare; the mesh of branches was about as much use for stopping the snow as would be a sieve, and the ground was a patchwork mixture of frozen earth and crisp white. Smattered clusters of stubborn plants clung to their roots in the places where sunlight was able to penetrate, their leaves a deep green and their flowers a bland shade of grey. Amongst it all, four men marched. Tymos looked around at his company. At his left walked his most trusted, Morael. Snowflakes hung in the bush of his black beard like decorations, and aside from the thick furs and leather armour hugging his bulky frame he was also wearing an obviously concerned expression. His left hand lingered constantly above the axe at his side and his right was balled into a tight fist. He spoke no words, but he did not need to. Tymos could tell what the man was thinking, and he shared his friend’s sentiments. But, Tymos needed to see with his own eyes. In that, he had no choice. On his right marched the two scouts who had set all this in motion. The bald one who had spoken earlier was constantly looking over his shoulders, as if he expected trouble, and the other marched in silence, watching the ground. Tymos did not know them by name; a sad truth of expanding rule was that it became impossible for one to know every man he commanded. Try as he might, the villages were just too widespread and too populous for Tymos to know them all anymore. They seemed good men, but one could never be too sure. There was every chance that the pair of scouts were luring Tymos and Morael into a trap for one of the dozens of upstarts to try yet again to dislodge Tymos. Fools who attempted anything of that ilk did not often keep their heads for too long after. “Down.” At the scout’s words, all four men lowered their stance. “Ahead. The clearing, my lord. Can you hear it?” Indeed, the unmistakable sound of human voices. They were deep and sounded as if someone were speaking into a great metal tin. There were other noises as well. The voices were accompanied by a low hum, and the sounds of a dozen armour-clad feet thudding against the frozen ground. A strange wave of familiarity washed over Tymos. Although uneasy, Tymos did not feel endangered. Bolstered by new-found confidence, he stood to his full height, dwarfing the crouched men around him. “Tymos. Surely you do not mean to approach?” Tymos did not reply immediately. “I do. I must see it, brother. If what these men say is true,” he gestured to the two befuddled scouts, “then it is imperative.” Morael knew better than to argue. Nothing he could say would dissuade Tymos from this venture. Morael stood, even at his full height falling four feet short of the gargantuan Tymos, and relieved his axe of its bindings, gripping it firmly. He said no more, simply nodding his compliance. The four men walked forward, clearing the rows of watching trees and stepping into a wide clearing. As they did so, the voices stopped. Ahead of them, an enormous metal construction stood. Resembling a bird, the construct was tall, long and angular, with great steel wings stretching out from either side. Around its belly, some sort of ramp was descended into the snow, and at its base stood enormous armour clad men with glowing eyes. They were tall; shorter than Tymos but closer to his own height than Morael’s. The smaller warrior recoiled at the sight, but a firm hand on his shoulder from Tymos steadied his resolve. The four men walked closer. The warriors had obviously spotted them now. They held curious weaponry, some sort of projectile weapon if the way they raised and pointed them at the approaching men was any indication. They made no sound, weapons fixed on the four strangers that dared approach them. As they drew closer, Tymos reeled at the enormity of the metal construct they had huddled around, larger than even the ships they had sailed the seas upon. Suddenly, in unison, the soldiers lowered their weapons, holding them across their chests. From up the ramp, the obvious sound of footsteps could be heard. A single man descended. The single most marvellous man that Tymos had ever beheld. He was radiant, more so than Ictar’s sun even at the height of the Sun Season. He was taller than even Tymos, with hulking golden armour and long yellow hair that fell about his shoulders. His face was smooth, perfectly symmetrical and smiling, yet with a steely gaze and sharp features that commanded nothing but full respect. Despite himself, Tymos was overwhelmed by his magnificence and authority. The golden man approached Tymos and his companions. As he drew nearer Tymos observed the intricacies of his armour patterning, ornate and carved with murals and patterns finer than anything the forges of Ictar had or would ever produce. He was taller than Tymos, and as he approached the two stared each other directly in the eye. The man’s smile vanished as he looked Tymos up and down for a moment, and reappeared seconds later as eye contact was restored. The scouts had retreated somewhat, and even Morael stood a couple of paces behind, his axe still drawn. “What is your name?” His voice was soft and soothing. “Tymos.” He did his best to retain his composure. He had never seen another man even close to his own size, yet this one dwarfed him in both stature and aura. “Tymos Venatum.” “Tymos Venatum.” He smiled as he said it, mulling the name over no doubt. He outstretched an armoured hand. Tymos hesitated before grasping it firmly and shaking. “Who are you?” “I am the Emperor of Mankind, Tymos.” The words did not make sense, yet Tymos could sense he was not lying. Tymos ruled this planet, yet this man did not. This man ruled beyond this world. He glanced back at the giant metal bird. Some sort of ship for sailing the sea of stars, no doubt. “Look at your companions, Tymos. Look at mine.” Tymos did as he was bid. “Now look at us. At yourself, and at me. You know you are not of this world.” His words rang true. Tymos was closer in size to this supposed Emperor than anyone else he had ever met. His words were baffling, yet there was an undeniable truth to them. “You are my son, Tymos. I am your father, and I have come to bring you home.” [/hider] [hider=The XVIII] [hr][centre][h1]The Black Manticores[/h1] [img]https://i.ibb.co/r6Prj8S/logo.png[/img] [h2]The XVIII Legion[/h2] [h2]"We Bring The Dark."[/h2][/centre] [hr] [centre][b][h3]Legion Information[/h3][/b][/centre] [b]Legion Strength:[/b] Approximately 85,000 Astartes. [b]Legion Organisation:[/b] Squad sizes vary depending on battlefield role; for example a standard Black Manticores tactical squad numbers 10 Astartes, while recon squads are smaller and squads tasked with holding positions are considerably larger. All squads are lead by a sergeant, and squads are grouped together into Platoons of 50 Astartes under the command of a Lieutenant. These platoons are grouped into Battalions made of 200 Astartes under the command of a Captain, and these battalions are grouped into companies of 1,000 marines under the command of a Praetor. The Praetors of each company answer directly to Tymos, forming a war council that collaborates to reach decisions on the legion's next move, although Tymos still holds an overriding say on the matter. Each company acts as a functioning military unit with a specialised function, containing a mixture of battle line squads, support squads and specialist units. However, beyond the formality of providing a broad grouping, the company structure actually has very little bearing on the Legion. When the Manticores deploy they do so as a Battle Company under the command of the Primarch, or in his absence, a Praetor hand-chosen by the Primarch, and can contain any number of squads, platoons or companies with various battlefield roles. In doing so, the Manticores have created an incredibly fluid organisational structure that is highly adaptable to meet the demands of their campaigns and also makes it incredibly difficult to pre-empt their deployments. In this way, the Legion is able to tailor the forces they deploy to meet the needs of the challenge they face. Typically, the Manticores deploy smaller forces with an emphasis on waging a war of terror from the shadows, rarely taking to the field in large numbers unless it brings a tactical benefit or the situation otherwise demands it. Like all Astartes legions they do have the capacity to deploy significant numbers and substantial firepower if necessary, but will explore any and all alternative tactical approaches before resorting to doing so. [b]Genetics:[/b] The genetics of the Black Manticores legion are reasonably stable. Like their Primarch, the marines of the Black Manticores have sharp, angular features, an almost sickly pale skin tone and all have either very dark brown or entirely black hair. They all have the same eye colour, which is a warm brown tone with a dull red tint to it, making them seem almost daemonic and dead in appearance. Many believe they look like ghosts or vampires, adding to their fearsome aesthetics. Other than in appearance, there have been no noteworthy deviances in the gene seed of the Black Manticores thus far. [b][centre]Armour Appearance[/centre][/b] [centre][img]https://i.ibb.co/SQtgDZ4/marine.png[/img][/centre][hr] [centre][h3][b]Legion Doctrine[/b][/h3][/centre] [b]Tactical Doctrine:[/b] The Astartes of the Black Manticores are masters of psychological warfare and subterfuge. From the moment their training begins, the regimes of the legion focus heavily on achieving a profound understanding of the mind, and the ways in which it can be manipulated and dismantled. While obviously not frail beings, the gene-seed of the Manticores means the marines of the legion are leaner and lighter than those of their brother legions, giving rise to an adapted style of warfare that capitalises on their natural boons and emphasises speed and agility over raw strength. As such, the Black Manticores would seldom be seen marching towards their opponents without heavy mechanized support, preferring instead to wage an asymmetrical campaign that centres around the steady dismantling of the opposition with a combination of terror tactics and stealth operations. Black Manticore combat operations typically begin with extensive reconnaissance carried out by highly trained teams. These squads are equipped with cameleoline camouflage cloaks, scanning and communication equipment and long-range scopes on their bolt rifles. The Black Manticores make extensive use of camouflage tactics when doing so would be beneficial, using a mixture of cameleoline cloaks and armour coverings to aid concealment. However, there are normally many occasions in which the Manticores opt to be seen. Once appropriate intelligence has been gathered and the Manticores have a firm understanding of numbers, supply lines, leaders and logistics, their terror campaigns can begin. Ritualistically adorning their armour with skulls, body parts and runic patterns, the Black Manticores mould themselves into conduits of fear and despair. Striking without warning and seemingly as if from thin air, the Black Manticores descend upon their hapless victims with indiscriminate brutality. Aspiring to plant fear and uncertainty deep into the hearts of their foes, the Manticores will butcher and mutilate with no mercy and no remorse, before vanishing as quickly as they came and leaving nothing but horror and gore, and a few survivors to tell the tale. The fact that these actions are carried out not because of insanity, but rather a calculated tactical choice, makes this all the more terrifying. This is possible due to the mandatory training of every Astartes in the art of ‘Shadowstepping’. While many suspect this power to be of technological or psychic origin, it is actually derivative of the talents of native huntsman on Ictar. Using a combination of stealth skills, psychological manipulation and clever utilisation of one’s surrounding environment, it is possible for the marines of the Black Manticores to manipulate the perception of their foes. While easily put into practice by those trained in it, marines can control their own concealment with immense effect, seemingly appearing from the shadows and vanishing as quickly as they came. This is an incredibly powerful tool in both stealth operations and terror operations; armour-clad marines covered in skulls and blood can appear in an instant, butcher a foe, and vanish as quickly as they came. After witnessing the Shadowstepping tactics of a Black Manticores terror strike, it is impossible for one to feel comfortable in their surroundings, constantly looking over one’s shoulder and double checking the corner of every room for hidden foes. By leaving victims to tell the tale, the Black Manticores instil paranoia and fear, as well as publicising their actions and making sure the enemy knows who hit them, and that they cannot prevent it from happening again. This manner of waging psychological warfare is just one way that the Black Manticores seek to gain an advantage over their enemies. They will seek any and all advantages, looking to dismantle their enemies piecemeal and win the war before battle even commences using intense psychological warfare, sabotage, assassination, ambushes and all manner of disruptive covert operations. To the Black Manticores, the best battles are the overtly one-sided ones created by their own persistent work. The Black Manticores fight loyally for the Imperium and will do whatever is necessary to achieve victory in the Emperor’s name. If a single knife in the right back will do the job, then fine, but this is seldom the case, and there is no such thing as excessive force in the dictionary of the Black Manticores. Excessive violence and butchery are common themes of Black Manticore operations, drawing disdain from many of the prouder and honourable Astartes legions. The Black Manticores believe that they are loyal servants of the Imperium and are simply willing to do whatever needs to be done, not constrained by moral codes or foolish concepts like honour. However, there are constant swirling rumours that the Black Manticores revel in slaughter and the infliction of pain upon their foes, and these rumours have more than a grain of truth to them. If victory necessitates the slaughter of millions, the Black Manticores will shoulder the grim responsibility without hesitation and deliver the Emperor’s wrath without mercy. The Black Manticores rarely conquer quickly, instead protracting their campaigns in order to grind an enemy down over time until their final assault is opposed only by the remnants of a tattered, poorly-supplied and persistently terrorised force, already on the brink of breaking. When the time for the final push does come, the Manticores make use of purposefully imprecise artillery bombardments to shatter the morale of their foes as they advance, driving fear deep into the heart of even the hardiest defender. When the Manticores descend, a blur of ferocity and gore, many turn and run, and the others are slaughtered where they stand. As a result of their tactics the Manticores rarely take heavy losses. Their methods are terribly effective; the advantage to their slow and protracted methods is near guaranteed compliance, but the indiscriminate and violent methods they favour have lead to a fearsome reputation and a certain level of notoriety among their fellow Astartes. Furthermore, those among the legions who believe in honour have called the Manticores cowardly. They favour results over speed, and so will drag out their campaigns for as long as necessary to achieve the result they desire. Covert operations make up a large part of the operations of the Black Manticores. Extensive reconnaissance paves the way for extremely effective and highly trained specialist covert units to conduct assassination and sabotage missions. Acting with composure and restraint, the Manticores are able to wage sophisticated and complex covert campaigns. In the field, the Astartes of the Black Manticores have been known to utilise a unique sign language that allows marines to communicate without activating vox technology or talking to one another. The combination of specialised armour, training and equipment, such as that counteracting enemy scanners and communication equipment, allows incredibly effective stealth operations. Killing key figures, depriving fortified positions of supplies, ambushing patrols and turning an enemy’s own technology against them are all common features of their operations that feed into the psychological aspect of their doctrine. Sleep deprivation, starvation and thirst all amplify the effects of Manticore raids a thousand fold. Arming slaves and provoking rebels are not common tactics but have been implemented by the Legion before. Overall, the marines of the Manticores are highly trained, intelligent, remorseless killers, and are extremely good at what they do. [b]Favoured Wargear:[/b] Ultimately, necessity dictates the right tool for the job and to that end, the Black Manticores can be flexible. However, there are obvious trends and preferences in their Wargear. The legion evidently favours projectile weaponry over energy weaponry, utilising heavy bolters, combi-bolters, shotguns, grenade launchers, missile launchers, rotary cannons, autocannons and frag cannons much more commonly than energy, laser, melta or flame weaponry. Most troops are equipped with smoke and flashbang grenades as standard alongside fragmentation grenades. Equipment aimed at disrupting enemy scanners and communications is extremely commonplace. There is a strong emphasis on getting maximum effectiveness from even basic kit, and to that end Astartes are drilled with an emphasis on effective use of their bolters and bolt pistols. Where the Black Manticores really make their equipment their own, is in their melee implements. The legion favours savage weaponry that will cause maximum terror, making use of chainaxes, chainglaives and lightning claws most commonly. Many non-melee orientated Astartes will have claw-like implements attached to one of their wrists that provides a last-line melee weapon if needed. As well as this, all Black Manticores carry long-bladed, cruel looking flaying knives. While mostly ceremonial, they see extensive use in units like Haunter and Tormentor squads. Terminator armour is a rare sight in the legion outside of fabled specialist units. Black Manticores have been known to make some use of throwing knives, poisoned darts and venom coating on their weapons, ensuring the kill and maximum suffering even in the event of their death. The collection of weapons and trinkets with personal value and sentiment is extremely common among the Astartes, with such collections being a matter of great pride for many of the marines. [b]Armour:[/b] The Black Manticores primarily make use of Mark IV pattern power armour. However, these suits are highly modified. To favour their style of warfare, the Black Manticores have modified their armour suits in such a way that they sacrifice large amounts of the protection they afford in order to facilitate a much more quiet and agile style of warfare. Enhanced sound dampening technology, thinner more lightweight plating and more balanced weight distribution has created a suit that co-operates with the extensive stealth training of the Black Manticores to allow the armoured Astartes to move in near silence. Cameleoline cloaks and armour coverings see some use, but all armour is given a matte finish that absorbs light rather than reflecting it, making these marines very difficult to spot in low light conditions, hence why many of their operations are conducted at night-time. Bare metals are entirely absent on Black Manticore armour. The Black Manticores decorate their armour with runic patterns, terrifying imagery and gory trophies to inspire fear in those they allow to lay eyes on them, and the process of doing so is ritualistic among the brothers of the legion. The legion does maintain heavy Mark II power armour suits so that the legion is not left disadvantaged if unfortunate enough to have to withstand a siege or heavy frontal engagement. Furthermore, the Black Manticores are one chapter who have been trialling the use of Mark V armour suits on behalf of the Mechanicum. These suits are quieter than the Mark IV suits even before modification. The Legion possesses around 1,000 of these armour suits, which are distributed to veteran Astartes that operate in specialist squads in order to get the most use of them. [b]Vehicles:[/b] As they are deemed counterintuitive to their style of warfare, the legion makes little use of heavy vehicles compared to other legions. When tanks and dreadnoughts are bought into use, they are decorated like the armour of the Astartes, covered with gory images and horrifying trophies, up to and including entire corpses. The legion makes much more use of landspeeders as recon vehicles and sometimes small unit transports, as these can easily be modified to favour stealth and concealment. For transports, the legion avoids the use of drop pods, instead favouring the precise delivery of aerial transports and gunships. In particular, the legion uses a unique variant of Stormbird that is outfitted with stealth technology to evade sensor detection and deliver Astartes to the drop zone in near silence. Ground transports are used commonly but the Astartes will normally disembark some distance from their target and then approach on foot in relative quiet. Artillery support comes almost entirely from the Imperial Army. [b]Specialist Units:[/b][list] [*][b]Excrucio Squads:[/b] Among the best kept secrets of the Black Manticores legion are the Excrucio squads. Outside of the legion, there are practically none that know of their existence, and those that do will only do so because they have the trust of the Primarch. Operating even outside of the conventions of the Black Manticores style of warfare, Excrucio squads are interrogation specialists. They take to the field among the ranks of their brothers in raids, indiscriminate from any other troop. Yet their mission is to find a target and extract information. This is achieved with an unimaginable cycle of sadistic and purely cruel torture methods, using powerful stimulants to prevent their victims from dying and ensuring they can feel every single kiss of the knife. They are incredibly few in number, with maybe only thirty to forty Excrucio marines currently in the legion. How exactly these squads came to be is a matter of mystery, but were they not so effective at their role, Tymos would have abolished them long ago. [*][b]Haunter Squads:[/b] While many of the marines of the Black Manticores can fill several roles, Haunter marines are the dedicated terror troops of the legion, existing for the sole purpose of sowing dread and horror among their foes. Often using chainaxes or lightning claws, Haunter squads are deployed to carry out the most savage and barbaric actions imaginable without mercy. They are notorious for toying with their prey, often prioritising non-lethal hits like the dismemberment of a limb and leaving their victim to bleed to death in agony while watching their comrades suffer similar fates. Among the ranks of the Black Manticores, Haunter marines are typically the most violent and mentally unstable of the Astartes, and as such can not be trusted to conduct covert ops that require finesse and discipline and thus have been entirely outfitted to delivery death and horror upon the legion's foes. [*][b]Morsus Terminators:[/b] Little is known about the Morsus Terminator cults that exist among the Black Manticores legion, primarily because anyone who has witnessed first hand their actions in the battlefield is either a fellow Black Manticore, or dead. Unlike most Terminators, the Morsus are not a combat role given specifically to veterans. Instead, Morsus Terminators are specifically conditioned for the sole purpose of destruction. Most Morsus Terminators are recruited from the Berserker Cults of Ictar exclusively for this role. Deploying only by teleport strike, these terminators are few in number and are deployed only when the scenario warrants the utter devastation of a target in a short space of time. Placed at the centre of the maelstrom, these berserker terminators will set about their task of delivering annihilation with absolutely zero concern for their personal safety, fighting with uncontrollable rage and ferocity. Most terminators will shrug off mortal wounds, continuing to wreak havoc only to succumb once the fervour for war and blood that enthrals them has subsided. Morsus Terminators are rarely used, filling the role of a glass cannon; they are undeniably effective but will likely be destroyed in the process. [*][b]Shrike Bombers:[/b] Taking the opposite approach to their usual technology, Shrikes are specially outfitted close-support aircraft that are designed to travel extremely fast while emitting an unbearable high-pitched shriek. Colloquially called screamers or banshees, these fast and agile bombers make use of much smaller bombs but in greater number, with their operations designed to be long-term bombardments that chip away at the morale of their enemies. Shrike bombings have been known to go on for hours, filling the sky with a cacophony of shrieks and explosions that can cause immense psychological damage to the target over time. Shrike bombings are usually used to strike at targets that are difficult for infantry units to access, or as a preliminary strike before a larger assault by Black Manticore forces. [*][b]Stinger Squads:[/b] These are the specialised assassin squads of the Black Manticores. Typically consisting some of the legion's most composed and ruthless warriors, these lethal soldiers are deployed in groups of anywhere from two to five marines to eliminate important personnel. They are selected from a very early stage in their training and given a unique training pattern that indoctrinates and prepares them for their future battlefield role. With access to a wide array of weapons to meet their needs, these marines are the most likely among the Black Manticores to make use of poisons, and prefer to kill up close where they can take trophies of their kill and collect any important personal effects from the target like vidlogs or files. [*][b]Tormentor Squads:[/b] Tormentor marines are elite heavy weapons specialists. Typically these marines are used in ambush attacks on enemy vehicle and infantry convoys, causing disruption and panic, and fleeing the scene before the enemy can mount an effective response. Typically their weapon choice will befit the situation, choosing autocannons for demolishing light vehicle columns, frag cannons or heavy bolters for infantry and missile launchers for heavier targets. As heavy weapons teams they can be comfortably deployed in standard battlefield scenarios as well, and have been employed in raids that require the destruction of a hard target such as a certain building or vehicle. [*][b]Wraith Pattern Stormbirds:[/b] A heavily modified version of the Stormbird vessels commonly used as gunships and transports deployed to suit the stealth operations of the Black Manticores. This particular pattern trades out two of its four lascannons turrets and four of its six dreadstrike missiles to free up weight. The vessel is painted black by default, although cameleoline has been used to paint the underside of the vessel in some engagements. Fitted with cutting-edge stealth technologies, Wraith Pattern Stormbirds are substantially quieter and harder to detect than standard transports, allowing the legion to drop squads of marines practically on top of their target with minimal chance of being noticed. They are undetectable to most forms of scanners and sensors and make use of sound-dampening technologies to aid in their concealment. This pattern of Stormbird is the favoured method of deployment for the Black Manticores. [/list][hr] [centre][b][h3]Legion Culture and Relationships[/h3][/b][/centre] [b]Legion Homeworld:[/b] The homeworld of Tymos is Ictar, and this is where the legion's primary residence is. Their primary fortress monastery resides on this world and most of the legion's recruitment comes from here and surrounding systems. However, due to their suspicious nature, the Black Manticores refrain from dedicating to a single centralised location due to fear of that one location being lost, and instead have a smattering of smaller holdings across the stars, the locations of many of which are a deliberately guarded secret. [b]Legion Culture:[/b] The Astartes of the Black Manticores have been shaped by the teachings and ideology of their Primarch Tymos. As such, they are a ritualistic and superstitious people, with many of them recruited directly from the warrior tribes of Ictar itself. The Black Manticores have little regard for the concept of honour, seeing no value to the concept of engaging ones’ foe honourably when engineering tactical advantages is clearly a superior military strategy. Like Tymos, they prize loyalty and individual strength above all else. Having watched the fractured and warlike nature of the Ictaran people all his life, Tymos instilled in his legion a deep sense of brotherhood and a singular, uniting sense of purpose. That purpose is war on behalf of the Imperium. Each and every marine is fiercely loyal to the Emperor, willing to fight to the last man and do whatever needs to be done to achieve victory in His name. While many legions are loyal, the Black Manticores know no limits, going as far to commit horrific atrocities and enormous casualties in the name of the Imperium, going far beyond where most other legions would draw the line. The tactical basis for the horror they inflict comes from their deeply disturbing emphasis on psychological warfare and terror that stems from the strategic teachings of the Ictaran tribe Tymos grew up amongst. The legion still carries many of the rituals and traditions that the Ictaran people held dear before they were brought into the Imperial fold. Berserkers, among the most ferocious warriors, are recruited directly into the cults of the Morsus Terminators. The hunting traditions of the Ictaran people have been adapted and built upon using the transhuman physiology of the Astartes and psychological manipulation to develop the Shadowstepping art that every Astartes is versed in. The decoration of ones’ armour both for the purpose of intimidation and as a rite of passage has been instilled in the legion as a ritualistic process; the progression of a marine’s armour occurs when they become a fully fledged Astartes, limited to a handful of adornments that are built upon as an Astartes gathers more trophies from their operations. In a similar way, runic patterns drawn on armour can tell a soldier’s tale, and in this vein, veterans typically have heavily patterned armour suits compared to comparatively newer Astartes. This is furthered by the tendency of the Astartes to collect weapons with personal attachments and sentiments, leading to each marine having a collection of favourite armaments. Some Ictaran traditions and superstitions have been maintained despite the fact that other Imperial forces deeply disapprove of them. The bloodletting of captives is a common practice in which prisoners of war are drained of their blood by a legion Warpriest, and the collected blood is then used to draw runic patterns on the armour of present Astartes. The blood runes and accompanying litanies are believed to confer various boons to those who wear them, bringing luck and protection. Flaying and dismemberment of foes are common and ritual executions are implemented as part of their terror ops. Fallen brothers are collected as a matter of priority and cremated in ritual ceremonies on great pyres. Their ashes are collected and used as fertiliser for the soils of the gardens in the legion’s monasteries, allowing the death of their brothers to give rise to new life. In terms of leadership, Warpriests, Lorekeepers and Fleshmenders are held in extremely high regard by the Astartes. The ritualistic Black Manticores are mysterious and secretive, paranoid and untrusting to many outside of their legion. As a result, the legion is careful about what information about them is disclosed. The reputation they hold is largely a matter of self-engineering, with the legion choosing to make public their violent and brutal actions in order to synonymise their name with terror. Furthermore, the identities of many high-ranking officers are kept guarded, and the legion will never go out of its way to make specific members known. Especially, the existence of units like Morsus Terminators and Excrucio Squads, who would be heavily frowned upon, are closely guarded secrets. [b]Relationships:[/b] The Black Manticores view themselves as humble workhorses, carrying out the gritty work that the other legions won't sully themselves with. As a result, the Manticores often find themselves deployed to tackle particularly troublesome worlds where a psychological approach will be effective, or as a supplementary force to aid other legions with their shadow ops. No one can dispute the effectiveness of the Manticores, but not all agree with their methods and not all are happy to be deployed with Black Manticores alongside them. The Manticores are pragmatic enough to acknowledge that the strength of the legion does not lie in its combat prowess in an open field. As such, they usually dedicate more resources and troops to upping the ante on their psychological warfare campaigns while allied Astartes forces fight the battles in the field. As such, there is normally only a small Battle Company of Black Manticores fighting alongside any other Astartes legion at a time. Soldiers of the Imperial Army consider an assignment alongside the Manticores to be a safe one; the Imperial forces are usually utilized as labour while the Manticores wage their war of terror, and by the time the army is put to use in a final assault their foes are normally already beaten. The legion's relationship with the other legions and with the Emperor is difficult to discern; the dedication of the Black Manticores to the Lord of Mankind and his Imperium is unquestionable and the Manticores have never given reason to be distrusted, but the extremity of their methods and severity of their actions walks a fine line and a much darker path than many other Astartes legions, and exactly how this is viewed is difficult to determine. It has been said, however, by Imperial Army soldiers and other Astartes alike, that to be in the presence of a squad of Black Manticores is an incredibly unsettling experience. The Manticores barely consider Xenos as separate species, choosing instead to see a single enemy of the Imperium and one that simply cannot be allowed to fester. The relationship between the Black Manticores and the Mechanicum is a unique one. The Manticores recognize the importance of the Mechanicum's work and are constantly petitioning them for experimental weapons. However, generally favour projectile weapons and melee, meaning they are dismissive of many of the Mechanicum's creations. Their distrusting nature also prevents the Manticores from widely adopting new weapons and tech until they have been extensively tested in combat and proven that they are worth utilizing. How the Mechanicum feels about the Manticores is unknown, but the Manticores see the Mechanicum as useful servants of the Imperium. They do not view them as equals, but appreciate the essential nature of the work they do and so are only too happy to help them in their technological developments. [hr] [centre][b][h3]Dramatis Personae[/h3][/b][/centre] [list] [*][b]Praetor Morael, the Moon-Born:[/b] The captain of Tymos' personal retinue, Morael is a fearsome warrior and one of Tymos' closest companions. Before the coming of the Emperor, Morael fought at Tymos' side in over a dozen wars between clans. As close friends and allies, one of Tymos' principal conditions for agreeing to come with the Emperor was that Morael be allowed to accompany him. Morael was eventually inducted as an Astartes and subjected to the necessary procedures, becoming a member of Tymos' legion. Earning renown on the battlefield, Morael continued to serve alongside his friend Tymos, eventually rising to command the First Company of the Black Manticores as a Praetor. From this position, Tymos made Morael the founding member of his personal bodyguards and allowed Morael to select nine other worthy Astartes to complete the unit. [*][b]Praetor Leonarys Morressius:[/b] Leonarys was one of the legion's most accomplished leaders before Tymos was reunited with his sons. After heavily vetting his commanders, Tymos found a deep sense of admiration for Leonarys. His strength of will, quick mind and unquestionable loyalty were all traits that quickly saw him become one of Tymos' favoured Praetors. While Morael will always remain by the Primarch's side, there are few that Tymos would choose to lead a Battle Company over Leonarys. A veteran battlefield commander experiences beyond compare within the legion, time and time again Leonarys has proven a competent and valuable asset and one that Tymos considers utterly irreplaceable. [*][b]Praetor Sevris, the Red Sting:[/b] The most feared assault leader among the Black Manticores, Sevris is the Praetor overseeing the Black Manticores Third Company, nicknamed the Obsidian Angels. One of Tymos' favoured Praetors, Sevris is a ruthless murderer and an excellent commander, commonly chosen to lead Battle Companies that Tymos cannot. Following a particularly brutal campaign in which Sevris lead a solo assassination mission against the leader of a heretical cult, a miscalculation led to Sevris being confronted by dozens of guards. Slaughtering most of the guards single-handedly, by the time Sevris reached his target he had slain so many that his black armour had literally been painted red, prompting the remaining guards to flee and his target to fall before him, begging for mercy. Rumours spread of the so-called Red Sting, and recognizing the value of having Sevris as an icon of fear among the enemy, Tymos approved for Sevris and his men to have bespoke sets of red armour made. To this day, the sight of red marines among the black marines of the Manticores is enough to make men break and flee. [*][b]Chief Lorekeeper Ophiel Mectus:[/b] Ophiel Mectus is a veteran Astartes and the equivalent of the Black Manticores Chief Librarian. Lorekeepers are charged with upholding the history of the legion and chronicling their actions to be passed down so that their heritage can never be lost. Ophiel in particular is not one for crawling battlefields. Instead, Ophiel Mectus has developed a reputation as a bookworm, persistently trawling through data repositories in hope of new information that might help unlock some great secret of the universe or improve the tactical effectiveness of the legion. When Mectus takes to the field it is normally for reasons of self-interest, and despite his undying love for his brothers, Ophiel sees his work as more important than that of a rank-and-file Astartes and can be both condescending and arrogant. [/list][hr] [/hider]