War Scribes
"What meaning has conquest if the next day brings only ruin?"
Quote attributed to Primarch Arelex Orannis, upon assuming control of the II Legion
| War Scribes | ||
|---|---|---|
 |
||
| Battle Cry | "Humanity Ascendant!" | |
| Number | II | |
| Founding | First Founding | |
| Successors of | N/A | |
| Successor Chapters | Knights Draconian, Knights Penitent, Iron Scribes, Sons of Whitestone, Sons of Atalantos, Sons of Orannis, Lore Bearers, Shrouded Host, Sky Renders, Venom Quills, Lightbringers, Rekindlers | |
| Chapter Master | Ulreg Astelos | |
| Primarch | Arelex Orannis | |
| Homeworld | The Atalantos Worlds | |
| Strength | 100,000 at peak | |
| Specialty | Vertical Envelopment and Naval Operations | |
| Allegiance | Imperium of Man | |
| Colours | Grey and purple, later gold, purple, and turquoise | |
This page details people, events, and organisations from the /tg/ Heresy, a fan re-working of the Warhammer 40,000 Universe. See the /tg/ Heresy Timeline and Galaxy pages for more information on the Alternate Universe.
History of the War Scribes
"From the ashes, glory."
Motto of the Second Legion, created after swiftly recovering from a nuclear assault in the Terran Campaigns"
As with the other First Founding Legions, the Second Legion's history is long, and often shrouded in the mists of time. The War Scribes have been through some of the most savage fighting of any Legion, and have recovered from the brink of annihilation on multiple occasions. Often derided as an unlucky Legion, nevertheless the Scribes have proven over the millennia that they are survivors above all else, and exhibit a curious optimism and a fearlessness that belies their bloody history.
The Unification Wars: Legio Secundus
The future Scribes began their careers primarily as Hive Gangers drawn from the various Nord Merican Hive Cities scattered along the coastal cliffs and inland plains. Wild and savage, but with a certain cunning for fieldworks and fighting in built up urban areas, the Emperor molded the gang-scum into a kind of "Engineer Corps" for the Terran Wars. For every firefight the Legion engaged in, charging forward with Volkite and Chainsword at the ready, Legio Secundus was just as often seen clearing paths through minefields, tunneling into enemy fortifications, planting explosives, setting up bridges and providing field repairs under fire. The Legion began to develop a more technical mindset, and valued intelligence as much as military prowess. They kept extensive records and helped manage some of the bureaucracy of war, and though their advances tended to be slower than the Emperor might have wanted, their results were beyond reproach. Everything was done properly, precisely, and to the best of their ability.
"Dirty, Dangerous, Deadly!" became their unofficial motto, and the men of Legio Secundus prided themselves upon being warriors with a broad skill set.
Unfortunately, things became dangerous indeed when Warlord Kalagann of Ursh unleashed a barrage of concealed nuclear missiles upon the Legion, blasting many of the Marines into dust and vapor when they attempted to breach one of his many fortifications. Though the Legion would survive, and would leave Terra rebuilt to nearly five thousand able bodies, the Second Legion would remain sidelined for the remainder of the Terran Unification.
A Legion Reunited: The Second Son Found
"We were fortunate indeed to have found our Primogentor so quickly. Not for us the confusion and soul-searching which many other Legions endured. It was as if Lord Arelex had never gone missing, and each War Scribe felt truly blessed among the Legions."
Maestro Ferrorum Polix Creel, Master of Fellblade "Orkburner"
Less than ten years passed between the Emperor leaving the Terran system and launching his fateful assault on the infinite stars above. The Sacred Band of the II Legion had barely gathered under Hektor's wing before they were called to join their Primarch. Most Legions received some kind of nickname or designation before their Primarch joined them, but for the future War Scribes there was simply no time. They acquitted themselves reasonably well in the early Imperial conquests, but only truly distinguishing themselves in the Shattering of Trellex IV.
The War Scribes Legion numbered only about 5,000 Marines after the conclusion of the Reunification of Terra, having taken significant losses when a series of nuclear weapons was used against the young Legion. Atomic fallout and radiation embedded several anomalies into the gene-seed. Most were minor, but the Legion's gene-seed stability was finally called into question when Melanchrome organ mutations began emerging, causing a wide and worrying variation in skin coloration.
The Emperor examined the Second Legion's gene-seed and declared it sufficiently stable though not perfectly intact. Orders were given to the Magi of Mars to keep a close eye on the Legion's genetics and tithes were increased ten percent, to ensure a useful quantity of samples. In the future, other Legions would show more radical mutations and go mostly unnoticed, but in these early days any deviation was more noteworthy.
After the Legion left Terra, the gene-seed problems only continued to grow as the Second were exposed to more and more weapons of human offshoots, xenos empires, and other hideous creatures from beyond the stars. Their leadership suffered as a series of skirmishes with Eldar Corsairs slew many of their most experienced Captains, and rumors began to spread that the Emperor might disband the Legion altogether. The course of the Great Crusade pressed ever onwards nonetheless. Hektor took a personal hand in ensuring the Second Legion's leadership remained strong, sending several of his hardened Terran veterans to provide counsel and support.
The Second Legion welcomed these men with open arms, and redoubled their efforts in the face of ever-increasing challenges. The Volemar Gamma Campaign, a hard-fought struggle against a strong Ork fortress infesting half of the entire planet, culminated in a brutal series of tunnel fights known as the Greenburn. Within these last few dozen miles of tunnels running underneath ancient ruins of human colonies long since murdered by the Orkish menace, the Second Legion fought like madmen in tight quarters, laying into the foe with melta and flamer. Though the Legion's fighting men were a mere 3,000 able bodies, those that remained were in higher spirits than ever before, having proved their worth before Hektor himself by driving the Orkish warlord from his bunker into the waiting guns of Hektor's men.
Hektor personally commended the Second Legion, honoring them with the flensed skull of the Warboss gilded with gold and steel. It remains to this day as a memorial to the bonds between the two Legions in place of honor aboard the War Scribes' flagship.
The Arch-Maniac of Calverna
The border of Segmentum Solar lay mere handfuls of light-years ahead, and for the first time, the Legions were about to push beyond humanity's "heartland" into the vast unknown. Near the border zone, auspexes detected the former Forge World of Calverna, long lost to humanity. Because the Second Legion was closest to that planet, emissaries from Mars sent a personal envoy to request that the Marines take part in its reconquest. Fighting alongside them would be a moderate detachment of forces from the Red Planet and pre-battle cogitation indicated that a numerical superiority was likely.
Breaking from the main thrust of the Crusade, the Second Legion took a more southerly course. Within a few weeks, their advanced scouts entered visual range of the ancient Forge World. To the horror of the Magi it was visibly ruined even from orbit, with great gouges torn into the crust. The mighty spires and forges had been toppled long ago, reconstructed crudely by Orks for their endless wars. The central citadel yet remained strong, and it was from this fortress that the Warlord no doubt brooded over his vast realm. Mars' fury was apocalyptic, and the Red Planet's iron hordes descended in wrath upon the planet below.
The Second Legion dropped directly into the citadel whilst the Martians cleared away the outer walls of Orkish filth. If a decisive blow could be struck at the cancer's heart, the Orks within the main Forge could be pinned between the walls and cut down en masse. Resistance was intense, but sporadic. One minute the Orks would be striking randomly, even shooting their own allies, and the next they would form into an iron wall of cannons and lay waste to all before them. The battle lines shifted a dozen times over the course of two days as more and more Orks came boiling out of secret passages invisible to auspexes. A thousand Marines lay dead, cut off and isolated from their brethren, yet thousands more fought on.
The Magi authorized orbital fire on the third day, no longer caring much about damaging the already ruined manufactoria of Calverna further. It was horrifyingly obvious that virtually everything had been corrupted or destroyed by the savage xenos. If any machine spirits yet lived, better to put them out of their misery with a clean deathblow than to let them endure in agony. Brilliant lances from space boiled away Ork and metal alike, with only the central citadel remaining untouched. As uncountable Orks vanished into dust, what little coordination they had vanished. Taking advantage of the enemy's confusion, the Marines pressed forward with lightning speed, just as they had learned from mighty Hektor, and the enemy's sanctum lay bare before them.
At last the monster whose mind guided the horde was visible, wired into the endless rows of cogitators left from long-dead Martian technology. The Ork was a colossal, tortured wretch, his brain long since overwhelmed from the torrent of data pouring into his half-mechanical brain. Control over the Forge he had, and all its mighty guns, but no one mind could effectively direct the power. The devastation wreaked outside had shattered what little intelligence the Ork had left, as the surging damage reports cooked his brain from inside out. For all his might, for all his armies, a wounded beast chained to a throne was easily killed. A lone Sergeant rushed to the throne, dodging electrical arcs and insane Grots to end the green demon with a single Krak missile round. Though hundreds had fallen around him, the Sergeant endured where no others could, clawing his way over the bodies of the slain to reach the target. For his heroism in the final action, Second Company Sergeant Tel Bernos became Commander Tel Bernos, riding the Fellblade Fungicidal.
Though devastated and battered by Ork and Imperium alike, it was a joyous day when the Forge World of Magnos Majoris finally shed its Orkish burden and stood alongside humanity again. An enormous task of purging the remaining Orks and rebuilding the ancient forges lay ahead, but the task was gratefully accepted by the Mechanicus, and the Second Legion earned much gratitude for their assistance in the planet's recovery. Within five years, Magnos Majoris would begin tithing its production to the Second Legion. Within a decade, it became a primary Imperial Forge World fueling multiple assaults into Segmentum Tempestus and Pacificus.
While the Second Legion was justly proud of its achievement, the toll had been heavy. Supplies of gene-seed had run critically low during the protracted urban combat, and there was a very real risk that the Legion would bleed itself dry before ever leaving Segmentum Solar. Their salvation lay with the Mechanicus, who in gratitude for liberating a major Forge World stepped in to support the Legion in their time of need. The gene-seed tithes were temporarily cut to 10% of normal, and the Legion received an emergency reserve of heavy equipment, largely aircraft. With these tools, the Legion was able to husband its biological reserves behind sheets of adamantium until such time as manpower rose. For several years, Legio Secundus drew in its horns and operated as heavy support for other Legions rather than an independent entity. Though humbled by their subordinate role the Legion nevertheless came away with a sense of kinship with many Legions, and Hektor wisely encouraged this.
And Then There Were Two
After almost a decade away from Terra, the Legions sensed a change in the wind, and an unusual urgency in the Emperor's actions. The Master of Mankind seemed more animated, more excited than usual, as the Legions drew closer and closer to an otherwise unremarkable world known as Whitestone. A nearly unpopulated world, Whitestone was known only for its historical import of the finest quality ornamental marble used in ancient works of long-dead Terran nobility, spearing into the heavens like colossal white knives emerging from the verdant planet's crust.
In orbit over Whitestone, the Emperor addressed the gathered Second Legion, and simply pointed outwards from the vaulted cathedral windows. With a sense of timing bordering on the miraculous, the Space Hulk carrying their young Primarch burst from the Warp in a lurid rainbow of colors, even as the gathered Crusade fleet began to turn and meet it.
Speaking simply and plainly for all to hear, the Master of Mankind commanded simply: "Go forth, for your sire awaits within. No more shall you be fatherless, no more to be alone. Your conquests under Hektor's guidance in my name have been invaluable, but now you shall aid me through service to another. This shall be a day long remembered for the Imperium." The Second Legion descended on the Space Hulk, all but frothing at the mouth at the thought of meeting their lost Primogenitor, and found someone rather different than they had expected.
Arelex was barely past his childhood it seemed. Indeed, some of Legio Secundus was older than their Primarch, having been recruited before the Emperor began his project beneath the Hymalayas. This was the man the Emperor commanded to lead them, some stripling left drifting in a junkyard for his whole life? Hektor was a man who oozed nobility from his every pore, a son to match and perhaps someday exceed his honored father. Arelex was a short though muscular man, battered and scarred across his whole body. A poor reflection of Hektor's flawless form. A look of grief filled his countenance, not the look of a strong, decisive leader, and the men from Nord Merica despaired in his presence.
Still, the Legion spent some few days with their gene-sire in orbit, while his family was settled on Whitestone below. They told him of their mighty deeds on the fields of Terra, their hardships endured, and the conquests that had led them to this place. Arelex spoke very little, mostly just listening with an almost disinterested gaze, as if his thoughts were a million miles away. It seemed as if he had no interest in his sons.
To the Second Legion, this was a far, far greater blow than nuclear attack or damaged gene-seed. The thought that their Primogenitor might not lead them, might have rejected them outright, left the Marines despondent and helpless. This was not supposed to happen, they thought. How could the Emperor have misjudged his son so badly? If Arelex wanted neither power, nor conquests, nor an army of devoted soldiers, then what *did* he want? Did the Second Legion mean so little, then?
Father and Son
This is a small excerpt of a dialogue between the Emperor and Arelex.
To Walk Upon The Deep
"Despite his warmth among his Marines, Lord Arelex's presence could be quite unsettling when something aroused his curiosity. All pretense of humanity dropped away, and we were left with... I cannot truly describe it. An entity that walked like a man, looked like a man, spoke like a man, but who thought in terrifyingly alien patterns, whose razor voice and piercing gaze stabbed you to the core, peeled away your defenses. Nothing you said was forgotten. Nothing you did was misremembered."
"And the Eldar thought they could hide from such a man. Trick him and toy with him. Play games with him."
"Madness, even for a mad race."
Napotiel Greybeard, speaking to Imperial historians post-Heresy, era unknown.
The Emperor placed great faith in Arelex's command just as he did in Hektor's, but though Legio Secundus' Primarch was beginning to move, there was much to be done to temper Arelex's yet-brittle steel. For many of his first engagements, the young Primarch would do as he had always done. Listen, watch, and learn. It would be the Terran Marines who took up the Legion's banner and added many combat honors to their name. The Sacred Band that fought alongside Hektor, peerless veterans all, left Hektor's command with fond farewells and joined their gene-sire as the Legion's leadership during its formative years. Though eventually overshadowed by the Primarch's inherent strengths, Napotiel Greybeard, the very first Marine ever implanted with Arelex's gene-seed on Terra carved his mark on the cosmos with gusto, and those early campaigns echo down the annals of Imperial History.
The Reaving of Powanam Voct
One of the Legion's first conquests, Powanam Voct stood in grandiose ruin. Ancient beyond words, a depleted, battered skyline covered the mostly depopulated husk of a once unimaginable Hive World. Unlike the Imperium's fledgling Hives springing up on dozens of worlds, Powanam Voct had once been sustained by scientific wonders beyond description, and the Primarch wished to cut into the detritus of centuries to recover whatever might be of value within. When the Legion arrived in orbit the planet appeared dead and lifeless, but as the first Drop Pods descended and Thunderhawks entered atmosphere, ancient defense batteries opened fire with terrible energies. Hundreds of Legionnaires were cut from the skies with the first volleys, but Napotiel pressed on full of fire and the desire to prove himself before his gene-sire. Arelex directed the fleet to bombard the planet mercilessly, lest his Marines be torn to shreds by Dark Age technology. From his position in high orbit, the Primarch's sharp eyes picked out vulnerable power conduits and exposed cogitators to be surgically removed with pinpoint lance fire.
Eventually the guns fell silent and the Marines took the largest sectors of the ancient cities under their control. The men of Nord Merica were in their element within the iron expanses. None more so than Napotiel, former gang-lord of Terra, once the 13 year old master of an entire Hive Spire. With savage efficiency, they drove through the underhive, sparing barely a moment for the miserable mutants and barely functional security systems that stood in their path. Continuing his scans from orbit, Arelex directed Napotiel unerringly towards concentrations of enemies and equipment and within three days Legio Secundus was in full control of such portions of Powanam as were worth having. Much materiel of war was recovered from the city depths, most importantly an ancient armaments repository containing a handful of still-functional Proteus-Pattern Land Raiders. Long ago these titanic war machines were the mainstay tank of Dark age Mankind, and surely these vehicles would have stood against the Age of Strife, had they the chance.
Napotiel proudly presented these trophies to the Legion even as Imperial Army regiments landed to consolidate Imperial power and allow settlers to repopulate the hives, though the celebrations were marred somewhat by Arelex's pensive, thoughtful mood. Though Napotiel had achieved an efficient planetary subjugation and the Legion would soon make good its losses, seeing his soldiers burned from the sky would remain in Arelex's mind for a very long time. The Primarch vowed that such casualties must never take place again, and retired after the ceremony to hold council with the fleet's Martian detachment.
The Iron Waltz
THIS SECTION NEEDS TO BE SPLIT INTO FACTS AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. CURRENTLY IT IS MIXED, AND THEREFORE TOO LONG.
The Martians were regretfully unhelpful. Without turning the Legion back towards the industrial heartlands of the Imperium, they could not accomplish much in the way of upgrades while at void. The fledgling Legion was as yet too small, its mobile manufactorums limited in both size and complexity. Frustrated, the Primarch ordered his Legion onwards, taking a southerly route into what would someday be named Segmentum Tempestus. Scouting forces reported strange sensor echoes, flickers of things that might have been vessels, but maddeningly stayed just out of reach of auspex lock. The sightings seemed to intensify the closer the Legion Warfleet drew to an unnamed region, known to neither Imperial records nor ancient tales of Man. This was a wild place, full of strange stars and undetected planets encompassed only by the Scarlet Banner, a dense veil of ionized hydrogen gas thrown off by some long passed supernova. The fleet pressed on through the mist, bold in the face of peril.
Days passed with only the drifting gas to provide relief from inactivity. Many of the Legionnaires grew perturbed, though for now they held their tongues. After all, there was always something to be done. Some piece of equipment to attend to, some new training exercise to practice, or even simply conversing with one another. And then the Sword class frigate Terrax Mortis failed to report back to Legion command. And soon after, its sister ships Providence of Man and Bannerbearer fell silent, all three patrolling the Legion's starboard rear. The Lunar class picket ship Exiled Vengeance likewise vanished without trace, the rearmost watcher upon the port flank. A sense of deep foreboding fell across Legio Secundus then, even as Arelex gave orders to close ranks, seething with rage. Something was out there. Hunting them.
Passing into the deepest hydrogen clouds, each Imperial vessel grew still and silent upon their Primarch's command, mighty power cores banked to lowest idle and the massive guns halting their endless sweep. As one, the warfleet drifted cold and dark. It is said that no sound of the void is more terrible than the silence that fills men's ears, for even the wounded's cries and the sound of genetoriums exploding are sounds of action and life. A silent ship is fear itself to veteran spacers, and the Legion's human auxilia felt fear knife deep into their hearts. But Marines are made of sterner stuff, and well knew the Palaestram's stillness. And Arelex himself seemed to drink in the quiet, attuning himself to the ship in some indefinable way as if listening in a place where there could be no sound. Three hours passed, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, the Primarch brought his hand down upon the Emperor class battleship's main drive controls. With a roaring wordless warcry upon his lips, Arelex brought the Pollux Ascendant's engines to screaming life and hurled the titanic vessel forward into an unassuming patch of mist.
For a brief moment, the Legion wondered if their Primarch had erred. A battleship's engines could not long endure a full burn from a cold start, and alarms were beginning to wail from stem to stern. Their misgivings were silenced when the armored prow slammed into something unseen, yet all too solid. A ghostly voidcraft flickered into view, nearly as large as Arelex's own battleship but made of swooping curves and sail-like fringes. Beautiful and elegantly deadly, it surely moved like a shark among clumsy baitfish. But with an Imperial Battleship inelegantly spearing it amidships, the bird of prey had been brought low and the lumpen beasts below would feast. Even an apex predator could make a single damning mistake.
Thousands of Marines surged forward, some flying in via Thunderhawk, some crossing directly from the flagship, and a brave few spearing into the xenos vessel's flanks riding inside Caestus Assault Rams. From every angle the Legion struck, even as their Primarch kicked a hole through the strange, bonelike bulkheads and forced his own way in, accompanied by the Legion's veteran soldiers. Resistance was fierce and many Legionnaires met their end flensed into pieces or speared by strange flechettes of unknown materiel. The Eldar weaponry was of peerless quality, spearing through bone and armored ceramite with equal ease, yet the frenzied savagery of Legio Secundus' battle-charge carried them forward and through, trampling the enemy beneath their boots without regard for loss. The Primarch himself was a merciless engine of destruction, bathing the corridors with fire and shell. For every graceful Eldar that met its end withered and crumpled upon the floor with proud turquoise, purple and gold regalia blackened, charred and shattered, Arelex called out the name of a single crewman dead upon one of the lost Imperial vessels. One did not prey upon the family with impunity, and he would have his price in blood.
Elsewhere in the colossal xenos starship, the members of Legion Command were exacting their fearsome vengeance in their own way. Following in his lord's footsteps, mighty Ang-Quos hosed the decks with incandescent flame from within his Terminator Armor. Under his left arm, a Heavy Flamer belched gouts of Promethium, sucking every scrap of oxygen from the air and replacing it with acrid smog. Under his right arm, a Multi-Melta cleaved through armor and bulkhead alike, opening paths through the mazelike vessel as he pleased. Wreathed in poisonous fumes and hellish fire, Ang-Quos relentlessly drove towards the xenos' Enginarium, scything through its systems like a hot knife through flesh. With savage abandon Ang-Quos brought the control room to a roaring boil, scouring all life from within its walls. There would be no escape from his Legion's wrath. For his actions, the former member of II Legio's Sacred band would earn the title "The Cremator", and bear it with pride.
Bursting into the Eldar command deck, Arelex and his Marines found themselves struck down by crackling waves of arcane energy. Three xenos warriors stood before them, guarding the glittering seer that surely must command the vessel. With bolts of lightning and waves of invisible force, the Legionnaires were sent reeling back as their bolter shells and plasma rounds impacted harmlessly upon a shield of pure thought. The xenos denied them, and the arrogance of their act drove Mohxes Pellen, former Sacred Band member and foremost Legion psyker to act. Just as he had on Terra, Mohxes defended his comrades with an energy shield of his own, willing the lightning to ground itself harmlessly. Space Marine psychic and inhuman Warp-wielder stared each other down, the air crackling between them. Though the Legion escorts has fallen, burned to ash inside their Mark 3 power armor, Arelex regained his footing and immediately charged into the three alien bodyguards, silently trusting Mohxes' expertise in this field. They would not interrupt the duel of minds.
"Xenos witch. You think to stalk a grox, but you have found a predator born." The Farseer merely chuckled, gazing down at Mohxes with gleeful disdain. Her voice was like honeyed steel, sweet and sharp all at once. "Mon-keigh, you over-reach yourself. I have planned this moment in every detail." A thunderclap of Warp-lightning hurtled from Mohxes' fist swallowed the Eldar whole, but in a twinkling she stood behind him, even as he whirled to face her. "You might want to pay more attention to your liege lord. I hear he's not feeling quite himself." Mohxes froze in horror as the three Seer Council members speared their crystal lances as one into the minute seam between helmet and neck joint, flooding the ancient armor with psychic energy even as their bullet riddled corpses fell to the deck. Primarch Arelex stood immobile, silent as the grave. The Librarian struck the Farseer a devastating backhand blow, screaming in rage. "What have you done to him, Eldar... WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! ANSWER ME!" Laying prone on the floor, the Farseer spoke a single word. "Kill."
Without a sound, without even seeming to move, Arelex's monstrous armor loomed over Moxhes. Blue ghostfire flickered across his body, pouring from every seam. "He's my thing now, little mon-keigh. My chosen toy. Only my will moves him. The will of the Eldar." Rising from the floor on a curtain of rippling psychic energy, the Farseer took advantage of the Librarian's paralyzing shock and welded his armored soles to the floor with a flourish of warpfire. "Now then, beast. Die by your master's hand. Arelex? Take his life." The deadly blade rose, humming with unrestrained fury. Falling, the air screamed with its passage. It stopped, mere inches from Mohxes' armored helm, held rigid by psychic power. The farseer's eyes grew wide. Mohxes' voice was cold as the void beyond the hull. "Eldar witch. Your lies undo you. If Lord Arelex was awake, I would already be dead. If he truly wished me slain, I would have been happy to fall at his feet. But the best you could do was make him sleep, and put your foul mind inside his armor? You speak of control, but you summon only an illusion. This suit of armor does not possess my master's strength. And so it cannot, will not, harm me."
Mohxes grew quieter now, his mind wandering back across the years. "On Terra I was called the Hive Breaker. My job was to tear down old bulkheads to make room for treasure hunters and settlers. A hard job for a boy, but had I refused, I'd have been killed because of my powers. They exiled me to the darkness, forced me to fend off mutants and animals each day. I lived day to day as a tool without will of my own. But the Emperor gave me a purpose, taught me how to use my mind to build, rather than destroy. And that purpose was to support his son. I can never repay the Emperor for lifting me from the darkness. But that doesn't mean... I forgot how to tear things down." The Librarian's eyes burned like twin suns, flaring white-hot with an icy fury as his helmet exploded from the uncontainable force. "Repent, alien, for you dared to challenge me in a contest of wills." Without turning to look at the Farseer, Mohxes cradled his Primarch's thrashing armor with psychic tendrils even as he immolated her, his mental focus tearing apart her psychic shroud. Arelex sank to the deck like a puppet with its strings cut. Without another word, the Librarian Terminator freed his feet, hefted his Primarch atop one shoulder, and marched back to rejoin the Legion.
When Arelex reawakened, the Legion quailed before his wrath. The insult to his person would not, could not be allowed to stand unpunished. The Legion fleet scythed through the drifting wisps of crimson gas like maddened piranha seeking blood, but the Eldar eluded them at every turn, scattering like minnows the moment Imperial auspexes locked onto their vessels. Though one of their largest ships had been destroyed under the Legion's guns, significant forces still remained in the nebula based on the multitude of engine traces scattered through the smoke. At last, the Primarch had had enough. Opening a forward hatch on his command ship, he stepped out into the void, unshielded and unprotected, to the horror of his Legionnaires. For hours, he meditated in the vacuum. He neither breathed, nor ate, not slept, nor drank, nor showed more than a faint glimmer of mental activity even to the Librarians' senses. Only the faintest of muscle tremors in his ears betrayed any signs that Arelex had not frozen to death in the vastness of space.
Finally he stood, returning to the command bridge, and gave a sequence of nonsensical coordinates to his navigation crew. They would take a winding, looping path through the fog, seemingly aimless, and they would do so with all possible stealth. Nervously, his Legion complied. "Every voidship has its own voice, like a wordless song. The more observant among you may have noticed the Space Hulk's dull hum when you were aboard. The ship we are on now sings out with a growling fierceness, and the other Legion vessels combine into a chant of war to my ears. I hear the Eldar all around us. Their alien ways are like bells, a single tone for each ship. One note resonates across each wraithbone hull. We cannot catch them, unless they make a mistake like that battleship did. And now that the Farseer and her cadre have paid the price for their arrogance, the others will be wary. We will not get a second chance to ram. But... far ahead of us, I hear a choir. Hundreds and hundreds of tones, bound together into an alien harmony. Whatever lies ahead, it is large, and slow. We will catch it. AND. WE. WILL. CRUSH. IT. The Eldar will long remember the might of Legio Secundus." The Legion roared their defiance from every duty station, and the fleet began to move. Vanishing into the roiling fog, they began to hunt the hunters.
"Wolzhi." The Terminator snapped to attention. "Yes, my Primarch?" "I have spoken to the engineseers. The Pollux Ascendant's prow cannot be repaired after ramming the Eldar battlecruiser. The damage is too severe. I can hear the vessel's pain. It is time for it to rest. It will see us to our destination, but that will be its last voyage. Assemble the Caestus Assault Rams, cut landing bays for them into what's left of the prow. When the time comes, I want every Caestus available to launch all at once. Prepare your warriors. It falls to them to brave the Eldar's opening salvo." "You do my warriors great honor, Primarch. The strike teams will be ready at your command." Without a moment's hesitation, the former Sacred Band Legionnaire left the flight deck to begin carrying out his Primarch's will. Hour after hour, the shattered bulkheads were chopped and rewelded, forging row after row of crude launch catapults. Hundreds of Caestus Assault Rams were towed into position, under the watchful eye of Wolzhi Steelblood.
Three days passed. Three days of drifting through reddish vapor. Three days of silence, and hard labor, and ever-increasing tension. The Legion was on edge, and seventeen thousand Marines champed at the bit to be unleashed. On the third day, Primarch Arelex, clad in the terrible majesty of his archaeotech armor, pointed his gauntleted hand towards the forward viewscreens. "Behold, Marines. Your prey. Our vengeance." Looming through the clearing mists was a vast voidship. Unbelievable in scale, the Eldar ship defied comprehension. It was the size of a continent, and hab-spires as large as an Imperial battleship jutted from every surface. It was beautiful, in a terrifying way. An Eldar Craftworld. And it was virtually undefended, its swarm of support vessels still hunting the Imperial fleet through the nebula. The Pollux Ascendant brought its thrusters to full burn, and the last Imperial personnel rushed to the escape pods after locking the cogitators on a collision course. The ancient battleship's final resting place would be a fitting tomb, buried in the heart of a mighty corpse.
The month-long struggle upon the unnamed Craftworld passed into myth and legend almost as soon as it was finished. The Primarch refused to give the Eldar even the dignity of an honorable remembrance, one of the few times he voluntarily allowed himself and his Legion to omit anything from their vast records. It is known that the Pollux Ascendant smashed a hundred kilometer wide opening into the Craftworld in its death throes, exploited mercilessly by Wolzhi Steelblood and his Caestus swarms. With a secure beachhead, the rest of the Legion poured in behind them, laying waste to all in their path. What exactly transpired within, few outside of the Legion's inner circle could say, for the Eldar's psychic witchcraft twisted memory and mind as easily as it did metal and bone. Unbridled savagery won the day, and the Craftworld eventually succumbed to internal sabotage and relentless naval bombardment, breaking into a jagged constellation of turquoise, gold, and purple hues.
Arelex decreed that the Craftworld should become the Legion's trophy, consumed in every way by the Imperium of Mankind. In so doing, the Legion colors would become that of their defeated foe, an eternal challenge to any Eldar that dared defy them. Breaking with tradition, a vast harvest of xenos artifacts took place within the ruined fragments, for the Magi of Mars would surely offer wondrous relics in trade for Eldar captives and materials for dissection. It was sorely needed, too. Out of 17,000 Marines who assaulted the Craftworld, only 10,000 made it out alive. Of the Legion's hundreds of capital ships and lesser vessels, a scant few dozen of the largest and most resilient pulled themselves free of the Crimson Banner to laboriously make the trek back to Sol System, stuffed to the brim with Eldar loot.
Though the Emperor fully supported his sons, and greatly desired the subjugation of all xenos, the Legion's records speak of multiple heated conversations between father and son during the voyage home. Attacking a Craftworld with a still-young Legion was foolhardy at best, and suicidal at worst. He extended congratulations on a victory decisively won, but the Emperor was far from pleased that such casualties came from the void of space, and not from capturing planets for the Imperium to inhabit. Great threats though they might be, Craftworlds were low on the Emperor's priority list, and he let Arelex know it in no uncertain terms. Unless directly attacked, the Primarch of Legio Secundus was not to repeat this engagement again. Still, Arelex found it hard to feel chastened, and his Legion celebrated for the whole journey to Mars, toasting the living and honoring the valiant dead. New recruits and grizzled veterans alike had sharpened their claws on a worthy foe, and the sense of camaraderie brought the whole Legion closer together as a unit than ever before.
Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Steel
"To work alongside a Primarch and his Legion was... unique, to say the least. My brother and I took a terrible gamble in working with the Marines, abandoning all we had built on Mars in the quest for greater knowledge. I was permitted to take only a handful of Cybernetica with me, and my bodyguard Secutor Fevrel Khain. For months the Secutor and I drilled the Marines, attacking them from all sides with automata of every kind. They learned perseverance under my watch, learned to take any hit in stride, shake it off and keep moving forward."
"They also learned not to let the Razor-Drones into close range.
Logbook of Magos Dominus Scilla Kres, attache to the Second Legion
"Mars is a world bled dry. I've often heard it said that the dust is red not because of rust but because of the billions who have died upon it. Though most Martians would consider it an insult, I have long felt that chopping off limbs just to staple on a new lho-stick lighter is a waste. There were so many Marines in need of healing when the Second Legion landed, and I was not content to simply shackle them with crude bionics."
"The Primarch seems to trust my sister's methods a little more than my own, but I was permitted to attend his children nevertheless. The body of an Astartes is so much more... vigorous than what you see on Mars. Most of my colleagues would simply cut off damaged organs and let the rest wither while they do, but these men can keep fighting under the most extraordinary circumstances by simply gritting their teeth and ignoring the pain. Would that machinery had such will to live."
"Yesterday, I helped my sister enshrine a young Marine into a Dreadnought. Derik Polasii, I think his name was. Barely twenty-five years old. He only cried out once when I finished the final nerve-staple. No arms, no legs, half his face torn off by Ork fangs. Even after all that, he simply wishes to return to war and get revenge on the xenos. I have no doubt that the Legion will grant him that request. And I shall be beside them."
Logbook of Magos Biologis Namov Kres, attache to the Second Legion
Some months later, the warfleet of the Second Legion broke Warp above the ancient world of Mars. For the Legion veterans, this was familiar ground, for the new recruits it was awe-inspiring. What the Primarch saw, none could say, for he said nothing. Disembarking, they were greeted by brother and sister Magos Biologis Namov Kres and Magos Dominus Scilla Kres, and their bodyguard and ally Secutor Fevrel Khain. Greetings were short and to the point, and within hours the battered Second Legion was already beginning the repair and refit process.
Primarch Arelex left his men to the ministrations of the Magos siblings, and disappeared into the Martian hierarchy's vast conclaves, consulting with any Magos willing to share their knowledge and materiel support. The Second Legion emptied its vaults, offering a deluge of xenos treasures for any that would dare examine them. In those early days, the proscriptions against alien technology were far weaker, and many ambitious scientists jumped at the chance to pry into the Eldar's ancient secrets. Under Arelex's imposing eye, his Legion received enormous quantities of some of Mars' most advanced technology, and the means by which to produce it. With the appropriate guidance of the Magi, of course.
Some Magi were content to send their inventions off world with a fond farewell, but others insisted they be brought along for the ride. These adventurous technomancers provided an enormous reservoir of knowledge, and the fleet eagerly made use of their services. A few STC fragments even changed hands, relics of Calaverna, and with these priceless objects the Legion purchased the permanent services of three mighty Ark Mechanicus vessels, the "Three Kings" known as Olympus Mons, the Red Diktat, and the Quest Aeternam. With those voidcraft at their side, the Legion's naval arm became immeasurably stronger. And though none dared speak the thought aloud, the presence of the Three Kings also meant that Mars would always have some men "on the inside" of Legio Secundus.
"Humble apologies, lord Fabricator-General, but I fail to understand your actions. You have relinquished priceless Martian vessels to the care of those not trained in our mysteries. They do not worship as we do. While they have some low, animal cunning, the Omnissiah does not illuminate their minds as ours have been."
"The Emperor is the Omnissiah. The Primarchs are His children. Ergo, lord Arelex's request carries with it that same holy mandate. I have spoken to Arelex himself at length. Unlike Hektor, he is much more amenable to our ways. He does not scorn our worship of technology, merely cautions us not to rely on it at the exclusion of our own strength. I believe that Mars and Terra must become as sibling worlds, but even siblings quarrel. Never forget that we are allied to the Imperium, not subordinated beneath it. Should relations reach a straining point, it is only logical that at least one of the Omnissiah's sons should be encouraged to speak on our behalf. Losing three Ark Mechanicus ships is a painful price, but they are an investment in Mars' future."
"I begin to comprehend, my lord. Truly your data-streams carry you far and wide beyond my meager sight. What of the forge-ships that Arelex proposes to build? No other Legion has been granted so many mobile factoria for their purposes."
"I deal with the Emperor in good faith, as any worshipper of the Omnissiah should. He has rewarded us with many blessings, and I believe Him to have our best interests at heart. Legio Secundus can now operate with near total self-sufficiency if need be. Should we call upon them, they have a free hand to come to our aid. I seek only to benefit His children, after all. To bless His children as we have been blessed. But some well-behaved children I may see fit to bless more than others..."
Five years passed in orbit of Mars. Fresh Marines were drawn from Terra, Luna, and Mars itself, reinforcing the Legion's manpower significantly. Mars contributed many vessels to Legio Secundus' naval arm, as did the colossal orbital dockyards of Jupiter and Saturn. Arelex exerted his influence and authority to requisition primarily large vessels, having developed a distaste for Destroyers and Escorts. They did not serve his needs well when attacking the Craftworld, nor were they of much use penetrating heavily armored Orkish vessels. The Legion's fleet would concentrate its power in Battleships, Battlecruisers and Cruisers, preferring voidships that could be more easily kept afloat and repaired. A Battleship might be pulled off the line and restored, but a Frigate would simply become so much fragmented shrapnel, useless forever.
Much grumbling accompanied Arelex's "requests", for taking so many powerful voidships for his own Legion struck many as selfish or greedy. The lure of Eldar treasures silenced some, and Arelex's own force of charisma calmed most of those who cared not for xenos baubles. Still, it was made very clear by the Fabricator-General that there could be no repeats of this rearmamament. Though Sol System would provide what Arelex asked, straining their every manufactorum to rush voidcraft into being, his Legion would have to become mostly self-sufficient from now on. No Legion could interfere with the operation schedules lightly.
Accepting these commandments with as much grace as he could muster, Arelex asked for a dozen of his most crippled capital ships to be refitted as well-armored mobile forges. With such equipment he would never need to interfere with Mars' operations again. This he was granted, and so long as the Three Kings retained their privileges of oversight, Legio Secundus was permitted to build their own forge-vessels as resources allowed.
Having attended to the business of his Legion, the Primarch mingled with as many Magi as he could, speaking with them on a number of subjects and learning much about their specialties. His perspective of having grown up upon a Space Hulk was quite a novelty, and the "technical knack" he had developed by hard necessity unraveled many riddles that had vexed Martian researchers for centuries. Arelex became something of a celebrity on Mars, giving lectures to packed auditoriums as often as he trained against (and built) Cybernetica alongside his Marines. With that celebrity came an increase in recruitment, as the ranking families of Mars sought to gain acceptance for their bloodlines within the Legion. Many sons of Magi were tested as Marine applicants, though a disappointingly small number of them actually passed. The thin blood of Mars struggled to contain the gene-seed of an enhanced warrior. Still, some hundreds did pass the bar, and brought with them a highly educated skill set to strengthen the Legion by subtler means than bolter accuracy.
The manpower-packed moon of Phobos and the endless Martian underhives produced many worthy recruits, and from these Marines the Legion gained warriors with talents in void-craft and unorthodox "percussive maintenance". Taking in these neophytes, along with Terrans, Lunarians, and Jovians swelled the Second Legion's numbers considerably, bringing them back to a more functional thirty thousand able bodies. The naval arm likewise grew to more than a hundred capital ships, twelve massive forge-vessels, three Arks Mechanicus, and a small assortment of Light Cruisers and smaller Escorts largely relegated to ignoble scout-craft duties. All were of the highest quality, blessed with the many gifts of the Omnissiah.
During the handful of years the Second Legion spent upon Mars shedding blood and tears as often as sweating it out over tomes of Martian lore in the pursuit of excellence, they began to gain the colloquial name of the "War Scribes". To honor their Martian hosts, Primarch Arelex designated it Legio Secundus' official name, asking the Fabricator-General himself to formally bestow it upon the assembled Legion as a final olive branch, smoothing the last ruffled feathers as best he could. The Cog, the Book, and the Blade would become their emblem, signifying the highest ideals bound together as one whole. Industrial might, without which no Legion could sustain itself. Knowledge of the Self and the Galaxy, without which all else was but meaningless effort. Warfare, the ultimate goal of every Legion, the Imperial Sword of Judgement. These would become the ideological pillars of Legio Secundus. Though the Legion would never return to Mars, these closing actions ensured they would forever maintain a cordial relationship.
Lessons Learned
"It was the very best of times, young ones. The very best. Thunder and fire bent to our will, and nothing could hold us back. World after world we laid at the Emperor's feet, having picked the carcass to the bone in our unquenchable thirst for that which was lost. Blueprints and technical manuals and STC fragments poured into our Legion's cogitators, and we became known as warrior-scholars of the highest order. By blade and by book we conquered, the sword and the pen wielded with equal ease. The techniques of ancient warlords we mastered, and the fury of Dark Age Man we carried onto the field of honor. O, that those days might return once more..."
Avcollon Harkess, Venerable Contemptor Dreadnought formerly of the War Scribes' Third Chapter, addressing new Chapter recruits in the 36th Millennium"
Slowly but surely, the Second Legion advanced into the Galactic East, pressing deeper and deeper into uncharted lands. Flush with the vigor of their Primarch's leadership and the support of Mars, the hammer of the War Scribes ground xenos and human empires alike to dust. The "Burning of Volganis Beta", the "Scourging Beneath Twin Suns", the "Black March Crusade" and dozens more were added to the Legion's honor rolls.
With a grim fury, the War Scribes fleet burst from the Warp above their targets upon every yet-unconquered world. Carefully, they observed each planet with potent Martian auspexes, seeing that which was invisible to lesser eyes. Finally, with targets of interest identified, the unstoppable hammer descended, and every manner of tactical maneuver brought to bear. During these campaigns, the War Scribes began to find great success wielding their aerial assets more so than lumbering armored vehicles. Arelex's preferred style of methodical strangulation followed by a swift deathblow required greater mobility than Land Raiders and Fellblades could typically provide. Increasingly, the Legion focused on Thunderhawks and Fire Talons, reserving armored forces primarily for the final killing strike. Heavier and heavier tanks were the order of the day, responsible for breaching any fortifications that repelled Thunderhawk airstrikes, and the task of scouting and flanking fell to Land Speeders, Xiphon Interceptors, and Stormtalons.
Using these techniques, only the most heavily entrenched foes could withstand the War Scribes. The enemy was cut apart piecemeal in the open by slashing aerial runs, pursued by Assault Marines dropping from transports. Whatever boltholes they fled to were savagely mauled by the heavier Thunderhawks and Fire Raptors. Finally, Caestus Assault Rams, Drop Pods, and renewed Thunderhawk deployments struck the enemy's hardened core, backed by heavy armored vehicles securing the perimeter before pressing into urban assault.
Worryingly, some situations were still cause for concern, particularly emerging during the "Defense of Specularia", a world that would live forever as one of the War Scribes' most difficult conquests. The planet of Specularia was of little value to the Great Crusade, save for its strategic location at the intersection of not two, but three major Warp routes. The currents of the Immaterium flowed strong and swift here, and the Imperium's ships gained great momentum by harnessing its exceptionally smooth and pliant flow. The inhabitants were a simple, brutish people, with little wit in their heads and strength in their limbs with which to resist the Second Legion, and the planet flew the Imperial Aquila within two days of their first landing.
Over the next couple months, Arelex oversaw the usual Imperial restoration, landing immense quantities of material, prefabricated Manufactorums, civilian populations, and all manner of other vital gear. Things went well, for a time, but the more humans settled on Specularia, the more unnatural incidents seemed to occur. Minor at first, a workman might lose his tools, then find them in an impossible spot out of reach, or a mother might set her child in its crib, only to find it playing happily on the floor a few moments later. As the incidents became worse, the currents of the Warp grew turbulent, and Arelex couldn't say which one was causing the other. He knew the Warp responded to emotions, the Emperor had told him as much, but was it cause or effect at play here?
Before he and his Legion could answer this question, a massive Warp Storm broke upon Specularia, casting malignant energies across the globe. All three Warp currents bent and twisted, disgorging titanic quantities of energy in all directions and temporarily cutting off almost a tenth of the Legion from their brethren on other Crusades. The Scribes looked to their trusty weaponry, bracing themselves for what was to come. The currents from beyond space were so bad that the Legion's well-organized command structure broke down into squads commanded by Captains and Sergeants, and sometimes without any ranking officers at all. Communications broke down entirely, just as the keening wind took on an altogether more menacing, hungrier tone.
The Warp did not like these new interlopers, and it showed its displeasure by reawakening the horror that slumbered within Specularia's inhabitants. Strange veils of energy enveloped the plodding simpletons, infusing them with unnatural vigor and a thirst for blood. Neither dirt, plasteel, ceramite or adamantium barred their way, for they simply passed through such obstacles with no more effort than a man might press forward into a light breeze. From every angle the half-phantoms struck, strangling the life from the Marines in truly horrible fashion. Totally disorganized and cut off from command, the War Scribes Legion was left to its own devices, and in their rising panic they failed to attain the mental calmness and coordination that Arelex's vertical envelopment doctrines demanded. Helpless before the rising fury, hundreds of Legionnaires died within minutes.
In bits and pieces, in squads and Companies, the Marines rallied over the course of several hours, falling back whenever the Warp hurled a new wave of phantom killers their way. Bolters were of no avail, but plasma rounds proved at least moderately effective. The scent of terror and death permeated everything, and raw strands of blood, bile, and other bodily fluids drifted perversely through the air like macabre streamers at a victory parade. Nevertheless, the Scribes held their ground. Working with inhuman speed and accuracy, the Primarch deployed a powerful mobile communications array, managing to pierce the screaming veil for a few moments.
Ordering the crew of the Lunar class cruiser Furious Justice to abandon ship, he commanded its captain to engage the Warp Drive and detonate the ship at the intersection of the hostile Warp currents. Captain Jicaeo Gelen went down with his vessel, and with his last breath, moments before the howling Warp claimed him, he saw the lurid, unnatural colors of the Immaterium recede from Specularia. Captain Gelen would be immortalized forever in the annals of the Legion, and one of their finest Battleships would bear his name throughout the Great Crusade, serving honorably in countless actions.
One thousand, three hundred and twenty-seven Legionnaires met their end that day, out of three and a half thousand proud warriors who had made planetfall only months before.
Legio Secundus had faced the Warp's fury and come through to the other side, but at great cost. Even more than the material damage, even more than the lives lost, both human and Marine, the Second Legion lost part of their confidence. When faced with truly unpredictable terrors, the Marines showed a tendency to freeze up and become indecisive, and this cost them many warriors. Another Legion might have lost themselves in the savage needs of the moment and fought with individual ferocity, but the disciplined War Scribes could not so easily separate thought from deed and were ill prepared for the madness of the Warp to cloud their minds.
It was a lesson they would take to heart, but the Legion would never be quite the same after Specularia. Tougher, stronger, more alert and knowledgeable, but always with the awareness that their tempered blade still held brittleness within. Arelex in particular would never forget the lessons the Warp taught him that black day. Though he had been raised in a Space Hulk, and was no stranger to the horrors of its random plunges into the Warp, Specularia showed him glimmers of some deeper malignance beyond his knowledge. With unease in his spirit, the Primarch began working with his Librarians to develop a doctrine for how the Legion would make use of its psykers. It would take time, but the Legion felt certain that carelessly handling Warp energy could only lead to peril. In particular, Arelex asked his Librarians to research methods of shielding the non-psychic Legionnaires from Warp-borne mental interference.
The savagery of Specularia behind them, the Legion busied themselves with the minutia of managing their rearmament, hoping to let time heal the mental fatigue that had taken hold of the shell-shocked warriors. While the other branches of the Second Legion ground onward, those who survived the Warp storm remained close to their Primarch, moving forward only slowly. Arelex knew his men needed a breather to regain their fighting form.
They would not receive it.
The Octarian Hydra
The Legion's path carried it to the south and east, taking a wide route around the Maelstrom. Though their numbers had recovered to a potent 40,000 strong, every Scribe Legionnaire had taken the lessons of Specularia to heart, and wanted as little to do with clearly Warp-tainted areas of the Galaxy as possible. Unknowingly, they were passing through the space owned by the Overfiend of Octarius, and the Marines became engaged in a brutal series of battles over a broad front, stretching several hundred light-years.
Arelex's talents were pressed to the limit, grinding away at the seemingly endless Orkish hordes. Though the Imperium's powerful weaponry and dogged discipline proved invaluable in paving the way for the Imperial Army to strike deep into Ork-held worlds, and the technological know-how of Mars allowed many planets to be purged of Orkish spores, the Ork menace was simply too unstructured, too fluid in its assaults, and its manpower too limitless. Counterattacks came from all sides, and no conquered planet considered itself safe.
Slowly, Arelex began to understand that he faced something far different than his warriors had ever handled before. The Greenburn, Calvera, and dozens of other isolated Orkish planets were utterly insignificant compared to the looming, shadowed menace lurking before the Second Legion. Far from random strikes, these Orkish invasions acted as though directed from a central control point, and moved with purpose. The War Scribes Legion were interlopers in the den of an angry beast, and his hands reached far and wide to crush the irritation.
The frequency of the raids intensified with each passing day, and the Legion's vertical envelopment tactics proved useful for fending off the small offensives. Each Ork Warboss fought in a different fashion from his peers, and so the Legion created new tactical variations to match them. Seeking information on the foe's nature, Arelex led the bulk of his fleet into the jaws of Orkish space, shattering their way through the Orkish lines. With the shock of so much weight of arms behind them, the Second Legion crushed through all in their path.
Of perhaps a hundred or more worlds near the Legion's sweeping advance, almost eighty were fully cleansed of Orkish taint, and a line was cut across most of the Sagittarius Arm establishing a barrier. Primarch Arelex set up a staggered defensive cordon of Fortress Worlds here. These planets would contain the Ork in the space near the Galactic Core, prevent them from retaliating into Segmentum Solar, and create a staging point for future Imperial assaults upon his worlds. The gate was open, and now the door had to be forced. Arelex would turn his back to the Sagittarius Arm for now, and strike down upon the remaining Ork worlds with the rear flanks covered.
These Fortress Worlds became known as the Sagittarius Wall, and their Mars-crafted ramparts would guard the entry to the Sagittarius Arm for long millennia. For nine thousand years the Sagittarius Wall would hold, eventually crumbling completely in the 39th Millennium.
Infuriated by the audacity of the Imperium, the Overfiend himself emerged from his savage base of power, and the Second Legion found themselves abruptly on the back foot after so many initial successes. Clever aerial tactics meant nothing in the face of unbridled force. There were simply more Orks than the Legion had Bolter rounds. Billions of Orks struck at every occupied planet, and swarms of Orkish vessels dueled in the void. In a matter of months, the Second Legion was thrown back from more than forty recently conquered worlds, and the damage to men, machines and morale was immense. Every possible stratagem was tried and found wanting. The War Scribes were shoved into the defensive cordon they had erected just a year before, fighting savagely just to hold the full-fledged WAAAGH! at bay.
Mars rallied to the beleaguered Legion's aid, and the reborn Calvernan Forge World of Magnos Majoris led the charge. Dozens of Titans, multiple Mechanicus fleets, and uncountable Cybernetica and Skitarii solidified the Sagittarius Wall alongside the soldiers of the Imperial Army, and beneath their protection, Arelex gathered his forces for retaliation. Thinking back to their original successes, it slowly became apparent that the Orks must be taken by storm, before they could communicate with the rest of the titanic hordes. The Ork horde was mighty, but took time to redirect against new threats. Strike with maximum force, then mop up the survivors in detail. Perhaps this was the key. In any case, it was a terrible risk, for the Legion could not afford a failure. The Imperium had no more to give to these sectors. No second chances.
Now, though, the Second Legion had a target. The Ork Warlord was forced from his iron throne to herd the various Warbosses under his control in the right direction, and Imperial communications identified the hub around which his empire spun, the planet of Octarius. And so, the orders went out. "Press forward to Octarius, at any cost. Burn the planet to the ground, and slay its master. Nothing else will end this war."
30,000 Marines, backed by huge numbers of Imperial Army and Martian soldiers, unleashed the gathered might of the Imperium like a Battle Cannon shell, crashing into the Orkish lines. The Orks were ill-prepared for the sortie, believing the Imperial forces caged within their bastions. The strike which opened the cordon of the Sagittarius Wall had taken roughly a year's hard fighting to complete. The Legion had been pinned against it for three times that duration. The lightning drive towards Octarius saw the War Scribes fleet in orbit overhead within six months, for the Overlord's attention was elsewhere as he attempted to bring down the Wall.
Octarius burned at once, the Legion knowing its time in orbit was limited. No Marines landed, the planet was simply burnt to ash by orbital bombardment. Uncountable Orks died in that inferno, and the Legion's navy laid waste to the Roks and other Orkish vessels under construction in the Overfiend's vast orbital yards. From there they broke into five sub-units, and struck outward like the spokes of a wheel, slicing an enormous circle through space and chopping it into pieces like a colossal pie. Turning in upon themselves, the Legion crushed everything in their path. Without leadership, the Orks were too busy fighting among themselves to withstand the deadly blows. The core of the Overfiend's empire, nearly two hundred worlds, was reduced to nothing but a scorched husk.
The Overfiend was forced to respond to this unexpected hammer-blow, and reports from across the Sagittarius Wall came in that Orkish presence was decreasing precipitously as they turned to crush the Primarch. Surely, the Overfiend would not be long in coming, once his remaining forces were rallied. Upon the mountainous world of Erichian IV, cleared of Orks barely a few weeks prior, Arelex would make his stand. The craggy peaks were fortified with all available strength, enormous bunkers and fortifications were constructed with the help of the Mechanicus, and the Imperial Army prepared itself to annihilate any Ork that made planetfall.
In orbit, Arelex waited with his fleet, hoping to blunt the Overfiend's counterattack as much as possible and bleed them white while the planetary defense batteries still stood operational. 20,000 Legionnaires held key points on the surface, and the remainder gathered in Assault Boats for a very particular mission. Once the Primarch was satisfied that the defenses would hold long enough, they would strike at the head of the beast, and hunt the Overfiend in his own flagship. Two months later, a colossal monstrosity larger than any Imperial battleship exited the Warp near Erichian IV, and billions of Orkish throats gave the terrible WAAAGH cry over every vox.
The void crackled with gigajoules of energy, and untold numbers Orks and men met their fate, crushed from existence by naval ordnance. The Imperial ships stood the test well, bolstered by Mechanicus improvements and carefully tended to by passionate Engineseers. The fleet made a methodical fighting retreat, allowing itself to be pushed back from the system's rim to within the orbit of Erichian IV's sizeable moon, almost a planet in its own right. Using the bulk of the moon as cover, damaged Imperial vessels fell back to effect emergency repairs before returning to the front line. Ork vessel after Ork vessel burned and flared into titanic explosions, and the Imperial forces killed a dozen ships for every one they lost, but even still, the Overfiend's reserves kept pouring in.
Finally, the fleet was forced to take cover completely, pulling back out of range of Orkish guns as the Overfiend directed his attentions to the planet below. Millions of Orks died before ever making planetfall, but the Overfiend simply crashed half of his crude ships into the defense batteries, wiping them out and causing terrible casualties. Orks poured from the shattered wrecks, charging heedlessly into Imperial gunfire. The Cybernetica took the brunt of the first strike, their mechanical bodies counting for nothing in the balance of power. Though armored and immune to fear and blood loss, the Cybernetica eventually gave way when the Orks finally closed to slugga range, hacked to bits upon the planet's blasted surface. Behind the Cybernetica, the War Scribes waited at the ready for the moment to strike.
Two days into the fighting, Primarch Arelex deemed the moment ripe. The Overfiend could not land more troops, lest the Imperial fleet swing back around the moon and shatter them piecemeal as they prepared to de-orbit. Nor could he turn to strike the hidden Imperial fleet, because his forces on-planet would lose their reinforcement stream. By Arelex's reckoning, he had the Ork pinned exactly where he wanted him, the immense body of Orkish troops split and critically reduced in leadership and effectiveness. Rounding the moon, the Gloriana-class flagship set its engines to full and prepared to ram the Orkish command vessel. By forcing the Overfiend into the fray in orbit rather than on the ground, the Primarch believed that the Orks on Erichian IV would break apart and be destroyed piecemeal.
In the void of space, there was no sound as the two gigantic vessels slammed into each other. Driven back by the Gloriana's immense thruster drives, the Overfiend's flagship slowly fell from orbit with an unbelievable impact, embedding itself deep into the moon's crust as its own engines sputtered to a halt. Plumes of fire quietly drifted away, accompanied by clouds of shrapnel and drifting bodies of Ork and Man, and from the fleet's perspective there was a kind of calm now that the Ork's guns were silenced.
Inside was a different story, as klaxons wailed and the entire battleship groaned under the immense strain. Within minutes, the Marines were back on their feet, charging across the ruined hull segments into the Orkish flagship, shooting anything that moved. For eight hours, thousands of Marines battled a hundred thousand Orks, striking from place to place with overwhelming force and never allowing the Orks to bring their mass to bear. The Primarch was an engine of destruction, barreling through bulkheads and tearing Orks apart with his power armored gauntlets, constantly urging his soldiers onward.
The Overfiend's command bridge had come through the shattering collision remarkably well, all things considered. Components crackled and sparked, and broken shards of metal lay across every surface, but who could say how good they looked before? Mekboyz weren't exactly known for their attention to detail, nor their care for maintenance needs. The Overfiend lurked within the red-tinged gloom, a titanic mass of flesh and bioniks shaded black in the blood red emergency lighting. Primarch Arelex ripped open the ruined doorframe, forcing his way onto the tilted bridge, and behind him were dozens of picked Legion veterans.
The Overfiend laughed deep within his chest, a hideous gurgling rumble like a damaged Stormbird engine. "You may 'ave killed me boyz, humie... You moighta wrecked me fav'rite ship... You even busted up me stompin' grounds... But this ain't over till I says it's over, you 'ere me? Da biggest Ork rules da ovvas, and dey'll rally to 'is banna no matter where 'e goes. I'll kill you lot roight here and take ya skulls wiv me, and get me anuvva WAAGH! Dis WAAGH's boyz wasn't good enuff fer the scrap, sure. They ain't fought nuffin worth the teef in years! You lot proved dat. But da next one will be betta than eva, coz da next boys'll be 'ard as as a tanned Squig! I's just gotta kill a few more Humies ta do it, I fink. Simple-like."
"I will cut your cancer from this Galaxy, Ork. There is no place in my father's Imperium for filth like you. Prepare to meet your heathen gods, for I will break you upon their idols." With a primal howl of rage, Arelex lunged straight for the Overfiend, emptying both slugthrower and flamer into the Ork's chest. Armor shattered and blood flowed, but the Warboss was simply too big and too dense for the rounds to have much effect. Laughing, the Ork backhanded the Primarch across the bridge, slamming Arelex into a bulkhead twenty feet away. "You'z gonna hafta do betta than dat, Humie! I've been 'it harder by me Squigs!"
The Ork's gloating was silenced by three Legionnaires slashing at his Power Klaw wielding left hand with power swords and chainaxes, causing sparks to fly as the pristinely maintained Imperial tech strove to destroy the crude but nearly indestructible Ork iron. "GET DA ZOG OFF ME, YOU GROTS! I AIN'T 'ERE TA FOIGHT DA RUNTS OF DA LITTA!" In a twinkling of an eye, the Overfiend had the three marines pinned to the ground underneath the Klaw, megajoules of energy pouring form the crude bionik and frying the men within their armor. A sickly smell of burned flesh filled the air, and the Ork drank in the new atmosphere with relish. "Maybe you Humies are good for sumfin' after all, yeah? Smells like you's good eats!"
Even as his men died in agony, the Primarch was back on his feet, rushing inside the Ork's guard while the heavy Klaw rested on the floor. Feet securely planted, Arelex delivered punch after punch to the Overfiend's exposed face, neck, and shoulders, slashing away with his arcane Power Sword. The Primarch's strong arms shattered flesh, bone, and bionik alike as the Overfiend staggered backwards. Arelex spoke no words, merely advancing forward in cadence with every stumble the Ork took. Relentless body blows with white hot adamantium shells began to take their toll as the Overfiend gasped for breath, his bioniks shutting down in the increasingly stale air. With a herculean effort, the Ork brought his damaged Klaw high overhead, delivering a crashing blow to Arelex's upraised right arm. The Primarch's armor cracked and bent, but he held the mortal strike at bay. Regaining his breath, the Overfiend tore off a huge chunk of flesh from the right side of his own chest, revealing a battery of cannons hidden beneath. "You like it, Humie? I got some good bitz after me Squiggoth got too friendly. Now, DIE!"
A dozen plasma rounds spiraled out from the hidden launchers, catching the Primarch squarely in the chest. Armor disabled, scorched, and enshrouded in crackling energy, Arelex fell to the deck, barely conscious. His helmet fell away with the impact, rolling across the deck. The Warboss laughed evilly as he brought the Klaw's pincers around the Primarch's exposed neck. "Ya did good, Humie. I won't ferget ya, I promise ya dat. But I'z gonna burn yer Imperium-fingy to da ground fer dis insult. I promise ya dat, too."
The last remnants of Arelex's strength expended itself forcing the deactivated armor to move. Arelex shoved the Klaw backwards and grabbed both the Ork's legs, pinning him in place where he stood. Unhelmed, Arelex was exposed to the Ork's fury, and in moments would be sliced in two by the Klaw. "Not today, Ork." Startled, the Overfiend looked up, forgetting Arelex as half the bridge's walls fell away, revealing more than two dozen Legionnaires.
The ruined bulkheads had been cleared, and all that remained of them was a few thin sheets of metal blocking the bridge access. Kicking down this last paltry barrier, the remaining Marines in Arelex's bodyguard leveled their heavy weapons upon the Overfiend's damaged body, unloading as one in a torrent of bolter shell and plasma fire. At the beginning of combat, the Ork could have weathered the storm, but the Primarch's strikes had weakened his defenses beyond hope. The Ork fell backwards for the final time, eyes boiling with blue fire as plasma energy dissolved his guts and flared out from every wound. Clambering slowly to his feet, Arelex spat a gobbet of bloody saliva into the ruined corpse, watching it sizzle in the flames.
"Ave Imperator."
Though the fighting on Erichian IV would last nearly three more months despite the Overfiend's death, for such massed hordes had inertia all their own, nevertheless the Imperium triumphed. Hundreds of worlds enslaved to the Xenos were freed, and though many had been consumed entirely for the Orkish war machine, many still held human populations held in thrall. The Imperial Army and the Mechanicus were hailed as heroes, and the War Scribes led the cheering, for without their sacrifice holding the Sagittarius Wall, the Legion could not have gathered its forces for the telling blow. Five years later, the Overfiend's legions were purged from nearly every planet, and the base of the Sagittarius Arm was an Imperial domain.
The Gloriana flagship was refloated, repaired, and rechristened the Ascent of Man in honor of the Legion's achievement. Its shattered prow, formerly styled into an Imperial Aquila, was instead recarved into a likeness of the Overfiend's enormous skull, clenched in an armored Marine gauntlet just as it had been when the Primarch held it aloft to the cheering troops on Erichian IV. Ugly and tasteless, yet undeniably intimidating, the Legion would never forget what their flagship represented. No xenos could bar their path.
Breadcrumbs
During the titanic efforts to construct the Sagittarius Wall, Mechanicus agents informed Arelex of some unusual technological artifacts, buried deep within the soil of dozens of worlds. Though broken and nearly unrecognizable, torn asunder by some unknowable force, there yet remained a glimmer of technological excellence about them. The materials of their construction were arcane, but clearly terrifically advanced, and Arelex began to hope that these might be the signature of ancient Mankind's work.
In recognition of the heroism shown by certain Legionnaires, and in recognition of a the need for more reconnaissance to avoid stumbling into any more Octarius-level threats, the Primarch separated three thousand of his most able, most independent minded, and most tactically flexible Marines. These three Chapters were armed with the best available material, and split into thirty smaller Companies of 100 Marines, with a Strike Cruiser dedicated to each. The newly minted Chapters were officially titled Exploratoris Progressum, but colloquially were known as the Wandering Chapters.
The Wandering Chapters were sent to scout and excavate in all directions, and as the reports trickled in, it became clear that the greatest density of these artifacts lay towards the Galactic Core. No planetary or stellar obstacle daunted the Primarch, and he gave orders for the majority of the Legion to alter course away from the spiral arm, and instead set their sights directly on the blazing fires of the Galaxy's heart.
The skies were ablaze with light, and all around the War Scribes were thunderous suns and fire-blasted worlds. Though a few within the Legion had misgivings, and many of the Imperial Army commanders voiced private doubts as to the need for this quest, none would gainsay the Primarch, as the enormous fleet muscled its way into the Core. More and more relics they found, most corroded to uselessness, but some of great potency. Fragments of STC devices were here, as well as more of the strange artifacts from Octarian space. Small populations of humans yet lived, even in this harsh, hot, radiant realm, and these were quickly integrated into the Imperium. A handful of worlds were established at the fringes of the Core, to be used as supply depots and repair bases. The Imperial Army was more than happy when Arelex commanded the majority of them to be the rearguard for the Legion, recognizing the folly of deploying unaugmented humans in this area of space.
The trail ran cold before the Legion had pressed more than 20% of the distance to the black hole at the center of the Galaxy, and for a time, Arelex was at a loss. And just when he thought it time to abandon his quest and return to the cooler realms elsewhere in the Galaxy, one of the Wandering Chapters reported... something marvelous.
Sagittarius Crusade: Colonization of the Atalantos Worlds
"Atalantos, glorious Atalantos. Central jewel in the crown of our ancestors, mighty temple to the heights we sought to achieve. Today of course, these wonders are becoming tarnished and worn under the still-lingering weight of the Great Betrayal, but never forget that our ideals still remain, shining brightly despite these ages of darkness and woe. Think always, Initiates, to the curious optimism of the Primogenitor. He is rarely described as such in Imperial records, but we who knew Lord Arelex in person remember the bravery and courage required to travel a realm of space that daunted even Mankind of old. Never did the Primarch falter, once his mind was made up, and we followed him to glories beyond the reach of lesser men. So long as you all live, so long as you bear the banner of the War Scribes Chapter, remember that you too aspire to greater things than other men dare dream."
First War Scribes Master of Sanctity Fordrex Ducelle, addressing a gathering of Initiates after their formal induction into the Legion, circa late M31.
Within a pocket of calm inside the Core's radiant fury, a lush, green world awaited the wondering eyes of the Legion. As Arelex and his men made planetfall, the sheer scale of the mighty fortress hidden within the oceans of plant life staggered their imaginations. Tall as a Hive City but many times wider, the building had clearly been crafted by the hand of Man, and later abandoned for reasons unknown. Empty yet pristine, the ancient city contained many wondrous devices and titanic databases from which much lore was rediscovered. Expansion began in earnest, and huge volumes of humanity flooded into the ancient streets, breathing life into the city for the first time in untold millennia.
Mars contributed no small effort to the reclamation process, and more than one Magos became famous for the knowledge they regained. Outside the city, the Mechanicus organized massive farming plantations, carving out more than sixty million square miles of arable land from untamed jungle, boreal forest, and savannah. By decree of the Primarch, industrialization would be heavily restricted upon this world, which he dubbed Atalantos in reference to a mythical city of wonders from humanity's ancient past. Atalantos would forever remain a breadbasket, and her natural beauty go unspoiled by industrial pollution. Indeed, with viable agriculture so rare in the radiant cauldron, the Primarch could hardly afford to sacrifice any available biosphere.
Lying at anchor in orbit, the vessels of the Ironsands' fleet worked tirelessly, beaming petabytes of data back towards Mars and Terra, for the learned men and women therein to peruse. From these treasure troves of knowledge would come many of the Imperium's most powerful machines of war. Perhaps more importantly, the Ironsands' observations repaired many gaps left in the ancient data, creating a detailed map of the Core Region. The planets and stars had moved but little, even over the millennia since the maps were made, and it was a trivial task to resynchronize them. Gathering his Marines to the ancient citadel, Arelex addressed them with a new vision of the future.
"Soldiers of the Second Legion, hear me! I had not intended to tarry in this place for long, and my plans were limited to simply excavating whatever tidbits we could find, before returning to the Emperor's side. But seeing this place, this... unimaginable triumph of our distant ancestors, I feel it imperative to restore it to Humanity's service. I believe this world to have been the staging point for an ancient human attempt to civilize the Galactic Core, and though they did not succeed, faltering at the grasp of Old Night, their records indicate many planets, rich with resources and vital to controlling this space."
"The Imperium needs these worlds, and it is my belief that the Emperor will hold us in the highest regard should we succeed at this task. The Legion will halt here, and dedicate all its efforts to subjugating these worlds, and we shall bring in all the apparatus of the Imperium to support us in our task. There can be no half measures. I have seen that there are yet enclaves of Humanity, cast adrift among the burning suns, and they have been isolated for unknown thousands of years. It is our sworn duty as defenders of Mankind and servants of the Master of Mankind that we restore them to the glory that should have been theirs. Let the fire of your purpose outshine these blazing stars above, and go forth in the name of Humanity! Ave Imperator! Imperio Aeterna!"
It is said that the entire Dark Age fortress, freshly christened the Basilikon Atalantos, shook with the sound of the Legion's thunderous approval. This was the job they were surely meant for. With a rapid-fire series of orders, the Imperial Army began to lumber forward, escorting hundreds of colonization ships and factory vessels. Soon, these lands would belong to Humanity once more. It was clear why the newly colonized world of Atalantos was valuable to Dark Age Man, for its magnetic field, boosted by the arcane Basilikon Atalantos, was crystal clear, strong and stable, barring much of the otherwise intolerable radiation. The stars merely provided endless light for oceans of cropland, and the War Scribes wasted no time tending to their gardens. Within months, gigatons of agri-produce cheered the hearts and flavored the palates of every gathered Imperial citizen, and with this unexpected boon, they felt confident that the Imperial Aquila would find a permanent roost.
World after world fell to the iron tread of Imperial might, and the Core trembled at the thunder of excavation equipment and dropships loaded with construction materials. Most of the planets near Atalantos were barren and lifeless, but the Core was bursting at the seams with mineral wealth. Endless oceans of human bodies, most of them criminals from across the Imperium, were poured into the ever-deepening mines. The tongues of ten thousand worlds mixed in the Atalantos Worlds, as they were being called, and ten thousand Imperial Governors praised the War Scribes for removing their human refuse that so afflicted them. Life was brutally harsh within the sweltering mines, but the rewards to the Imperium were beyond measure.
Industrial Worlds sprang up almost overnight to drink in the gathered material from dozens upon dozens of Mining Worlds, and from their primitive but numerous forges, tidal waves of processed goods emerged. Arelex was having an enormously thrilling time bending his skills to the challenge that suited him so uniquely. All that he had learned from Hektor and his father about statecraft, industry, management, logistics, and science he brought to bear, the endless reservoirs of data within his mind working around the clock. Here at last, Arelex felt certain that he finally understood the purpose for which the Emperor had created him.
The War Scribes Legion too was enjoying their labor. Each day, they landed with a new wave of colony ships, and set about the daunting task of exterminating the native life forms. Most were simple beasts, mindless though powerful, and their purging was accomplished swiftly and easily. On some worlds though, they encountered a xenos species known only as the "Deathpulse", enormous masses of star-like plasma, bound by magnetic fields and riding the currents between stars. These titanic xenos, many times larger than any Imperial vessel, would descend into a planet's magnetic field and rip apart any organic material they could find, sucking entire biospheres into their mysterious forms.
On more than one occasion, the Scribes came under assault shortly after making planetfall, for the Deathpulse were attracted by the sudden appearance of active energy and weapons. Dozens of colonization ships were lost, along with hundreds of Marines slain inside their armor, before Primarch Arelex was able to devise methods by which Imperial plasma weaponry could be tuned to disrupt the creature's life sustaining magnetic envelopes. The Deathpulse were driven back at the cost of millions of Imperial lives, but they could not be eradicated entirely. The creatures reproduced inside the coronas of stars, where the Imperium could not reach. Driven back, but eternally watching, the vengeful xenos still wait for the last dying of the Imperial light, endlessly thirsting for human flesh and bone. The Imperial Navy is their tireless foe, and each year assaults are launched from the Atalantos Worlds to remind these bizarre creatures who the true masters of the Galaxy are.
Though the Legion's progress was slow, which concerned the War Council, the steady stream of treasures returning to Terra, and the declaration from Arelex that a truly terrible xenos species was in need of his full attention to be hurled back into the darkness from whence they came, the minds in charge of the Great Crusade gave tacit consent that the Primarch should be allowed to pursue his goals. How much influence the Emperor exerted on their decision remains a mystery to this day, though in the context of later eras, it seems likely that Arelex was fulfilling the Emperor's purpose set for him at his birth.
Forges of War: Pheldavii, Rell IV, and Amavix Prime
Ancient Humanity needed technological devices just as primitive Man did, and just as the men and women of the Great Crusade required. Tens of thousands of years ago, colonists from the Red Planet ventured forth into the unknown across the Galaxy, and the Galactic Core was no exception. Isolated from Mars and the Cult Mechanicus, three such Forge Worlds were rediscovered by the Scribes, and brought into the fold. Though all were educated in the tenets of the Omnissiah, as AdMech creed and Imperial legalities required, they remained worlds apart, with very different cultural mores than those lands under the Mechanicus's thumb. Separation breeds independent thought, and these three Forge Worlds were independent indeed. In time, each would play a major part in the history of the War Scribes.
The Forge Worlds also brought with them a pair of Knight Worlds, long charged with the defense of the sacred forges, and providing them with food and manpower in exchange for training Sacristans, and manufacturing new Knight Titans for their various Households. Six in all, the Knight Houses of Atalantos brought much needed heavy firepower to Arelex's cause. And much sooner than any had expected, their strength would be sorely needed.
Eternals
Despite the amazing successes and the rapid progress of the so-called Sagittarius Crusade pressing ever deeper into the Core, the War Scribes could tell that their leader was growing troubled. The archaeological treasures he had hoped to find failed to materialize, other than the wondrous Basilikon Atalantos, and occasional fragments of unknowable items, maddeningly, tantalizingly close at hand. Arelex's calm disposition began to evaporate into a frenzied rush of excitement and frustration, and he scoured ancient tomes and starmaps for hours on end, lost in a mental world of calculations and predictions. If only he had more data, or some new spark of an idea, surely he could delve into the minds of ancient Humanity, and derive where their lore might be hidden. It was an unbearable pressure.
Following the trail of a dying Deathpulse would open the doorway to a dark and terrible secret. Lashing out in cold, vengeful rage, Arelex repaid the Deathpulse for his Marines' deaths himself, hunting down a small family of the gigantic xenos and hammering away at them with relentless plasma fire. In their dying moments, bleeding energy into the void, the Primarch's sharp eyes began to notice strange echoes in the auspex readings. The more Deathpulse met their end, the clearer the readings became; there were immense caverns of metal underneath some of the nearby planets. "Of course", Arelex thought to himself, "They hid their treasures underground to protect them from supernovae and other dangers. No wonder I could not find them..." Word spread like lightning among the War Scribes Legion, and as one, 90,000 Scribes descended upon these planets, deeply, deeply buried in the Core, almost within naked-eye sight of the central black hole itself.
The ancient vaults were cold, dark, and sterile. The footsteps of the Legion felt almost profane, disturbing the silence of the vaulted temples. Arelex was aglow with feverish energy, for everywhere he looked, some new marvel of technology presented itself. Within minutes, powerful scanning arrays were put to work piercing stone and metal alike, straining their cogitators for the merest hint of the ancient devices' inner workings. Unfathomable volumes of data hurtled through the void into the waiting memory banks of the orbiting fleet. Slowly, Arelex's grin turned to a horrified grimace, and then a contorted snarl of seething fury. The devices were not human at all. Only xenos work awaited them here, foul, blasphemous mockeries of humankind's genius. More frightening still, this was the work of xenos so clearly advanced that even Arelex himself could only dimly comprehend their potency and function. And as he realized this, the first panicked shouts from the advance teams deep within the catacombs began to filter back through the comms.
Almost as soon as the scouts were attacked, the xenos were past them into the main body of Imperial soldiers. Man and Marine died as one under a withering thunderstorm of greenish lightning, pulled to pieces and turned to dust with every unholy strike. Thundering orders, Arelex rapidly called for a withdrawal, to fight outside of the enemy's killing grounds. But so fast were the xenos machines that the retreat became a rout, and the Second Legion broke and ran. The shame was nearly unbearable, but the Primarch managed to assess the situation with a cold, logical eye from the command room of the flagship.
"The enemy caught us by surprise. In a universe of unknown horrors, this is well within the bounds of possibility. Remember this well my soldiers, a lost battle is of little import if by losing it you learn what you need to win the war. Even before I walked with you, you did not succumb to the cowardly nuclear strikes on Terra. You rebounded from the nightmare struggle of the Greenburn. The Warp-spawned horrors of Specularia were ground beneath your heels, and from great loss came a Legion yet stronger than before. Even the damnable Overfiend of Octarius and his infinite hordes, and the planet-eating Deathpulse were bound and contained by our hands. From every loss of life, from every near-defeat, the War Scribes STAND. BACK. UP. It matters not if your foe knocks you down, my sons, so long as your hand is around his neck at the struggle's end. The Atalantos Worlds, our growing flame of Imperium, are yet young and fragile in the face of this new threat. If the Imperium is to master the furnace at the Galaxy's heart, it falls to us to cleanse it! The fallen have died, that we may rise stronger than before and make their sacrifice count! Ave Imperator! From ashes, glory!"
The War Scribes were unused to such passion from their leader, but in this moment many of their veteran troops looked to each other and thought "Thus was Hektor upon Terra, driven and passionate. So shall our Arelex be, for Hektor's lessons were not lost." And thinking this, they raised their voices in loud assent, and set an example for the younger Marines, still licking their wounds, remembering the dead, and dreading a return against those terrible xenos devices. But with shouts of challenge and death to the xenos filth, the Legion slowly began to rally. Urgent calls were sent forth, and the War Scribes' fleet gathered from every corner of the Atalantos Worlds to form an iron fist of Imperial might, blazing with passion to defeat Mankind's enemies.
The orbital fight would be swiftly won, for Arelex was determined to strike once more before the xenons fully awakened, and so it would fall to the Marines to once more scour the caverns with bolter fire and plasma round. But this time, they would not be alone. The twin Knight Worlds of the Atalantos region were loading their sacred chargers aboard War Scribes vessels even now, and they were salivating at the thought of foes worthy of their wondrous machines. And though ground down over millennia of resource starvation, fending off Orks, Eldar, Deathpulse, and numerous other foes, each of the ancient Forge World's Titan Legions would take the field as well. Their numbers were but 60 in total, and even combined would barely represent what Mars would consider a true Titan Legion, but against these handful of xenos worlds they were a truly formidable force.
Legio Nyxata, Legio Illanex, Legio Salaion; these names would carve a new history into the stars, at last breaking the chains of gravity and riding in voidships once more. Standing in their shadows, though no less proudly because of it, would ride the Knights of House Singul, House Steelborn, House Magolos, House Enkidesh, House Redmoor, and House Acremorin. Many Freeblades were there as well, bearing their personal heraldry with pride. Such a mighty mechanical fist could not help but carry the day for Humanity once gathered together, and their pilots sang warhymns with pride as Magos and Sacristan alike consecrated their imperial steeds, girding the Machine Spirits for war.
With the Scribes, Titans, Knight Houses, and Imperial Army regiments under the guidance of a Primarch, a storm of Imperial fury descended upon the mechanical xenos foe. For most Imperial Historians, the first shots of planetary bombardment upon the first of what would become nine Tomb Worlds mark the true beginning of the decades-long conflict known as the Sagittarius Crusade, for which all before was but a footnote.
Beyond Atalantos: Tempestus and Ultima Crusades
WIP
Isstvan V: Legio Secundus Undone
WIP
Treading Water: Recalling the Wanderers
WIP
The Burning Crusade: Blood, Fire, Iron and Redemption
WIP
From Ashes, Glory: The Scouring
WIP
Return to Terra: The Primarch, The High Lords, and the Mechanicus
WIP
Whitestone's Destruction: A Bargain in Blood
WIP
From Legion to Chapter: The March of Ages (Late 30th Millennium to the Year 40,000)
WIP
Summary of Legion II
Data Analysis and Collection, Tech-Intuition, Integrated Aerospace-Planetary combat
Legion Doctrine and Chapter Cult
"These are the words of our Primarch and gene-sire, Lord Arelex Orannis. Here are the codes we live by, recorded for all time. Let there never be doubt in your minds of the correct path to take, in any given situation. We know the truths of the universe. We have seen the terrors that lie beyond the path of righteousness. The evidence is insurmountable and clear, and to defy or ignore it is the purest folly. Now, Initiates, repeat after me, the Oath of Orannis!"
"First Address" recited by the Chapter Master of the War Scribes for each new graduating class of Initiates, at the completion of their training and gene-seed implantation.
The Oath of Orannis
- We solemnly swear and affirm that we shall uphold the ancient traditions of the Chapter, of the Primarch, of the Emperor and his Imperium.
- Never shall the War Scribes use the tools of the Xenos, for those corrupted devices will betray them.
- Never shall the War Scribes use the sorcerous magics of the Warp, for those heresies will consume all.
- Never shall the War Scribes use the powers of the Mutant, for those who embrace impurity will defile Mankind.
- We shall serve with our whole hearts, our whole bodies, and our whole minds. Though the powers of the Warp howl about us, though the Xenos swarm from the Galactic Core, though the Mutant ever lurketh in the shadowed places, forever onward will we carry the Imperium's torch.
- We seek the enlightened future promised us by the Emperor, and we seek the glorious past promised us by the Primarch.
- The glories of Mankind are our sacred quest, and nothing will stay us from that goal.
- Our righteousness will shake the stars, and our will shall be done, for it is the Emperor's will that we do so. Ave Imperator!
"Good, Initiates! Now, repeat after me the Five Truths of the Primarch, as passed down through the Chapter Masters of old, to remind you that a War Scribe's greatest weapon is his disciplined thoughts! A true Scribe sees beyond the veils that blind lesser warriors, and peers deeply into both past and future! Rededicate yourselves to the ideals of the man who would reshape the Galaxy itself! Honor the precious gifts that our Primarch has granted his children!"
"Second Address" recited by the Chapter Master of the War Scribes for each new graduating class of Initiates, at the completion of their training and gene-seed implantation.
The Five Truths of the War Scribes
- FIRST TRUTH! All things proceed from the highest scale, from the Galaxy around us. Our Primarch knew this truth, unto which lesser men are blind!
- SECOND TRUTH! Just as the planets are shaped by the Void around them, so too do we shape our battle stratagem. From the Void we emerge, within the atmosphere we fight, upon the ground we crush all opposition! Space, Air and Land, all are but facets of the Whole!
- THIRD TRUTH! To master the Galaxy, we master its resources. All that is shall be ours, in the name of Humanity!
- FOURTH TRUTH! As we are stewards of the Emperor's Imperium, it is our solemn duty and greatest honor to nurture His empire. The War Scribes shall always be builders as well as destroyers!
- FIFTH TRUTH! Our Primarch was a master of the technological realm, and so are we. Whatever hardships may befall us, we shall always restore the relics of greater eras to the Imperium's service!
- This we swear in the immortal Emperor's name, in the beloved Primarch's name, and the name of the eternal Imperium! Ave Imperator!
Legion Colors
"Purple and grey? Those are our colors. Always have been, maybe always will be. Everyone in the Hives had their colors. It's your identity. Friend and foe."
Quote attributed to Napotiel Greybeard, choosing the Second Legion's livery prior to Arelex's arrival.
The Legion's original livery was unpainted ceramite gray, with a small amount of purple trim. They went about their business garbed in thick shrouds, cloaks, and robes, kept in memory of the rags the Nord Mericans wrapped around themselves for protection back on Terra. A warrior of the Second Legion was also never caught without at least a few pouches or satchels on his person. They remembered the harsh times from childhood when food or water were scarce, and any supplies discovered on their scavenging must be returned to the clan.
When Arelex rejoined his Legion, he permitted these traditions to remain, seeing no harm in wearing cloth over their armor, or keeping multipurpose containers on their belts. He merely upgraded them, creating heat-dissipating cowls, chamelioline cloaks, or thickly constructed flak-weave tabards capable of deflecting shrapnel.
After the Legion's victory over the Craftworld, Arelex took their colors as his Legion's own as a kind of trophy befitting their achievement. In addition to their purple garb, their Power Armor took on brilliant hues of turquoise and golden gilding. It was a bold, awe-inspiring heraldry, and served as a key step in unifying the older Terran-born warriors with the new recruits. Finally, every War Scribe had a "color" they could truly call their own.
And so it has been ever since.
Notable Legionnaires
The Sacred Band: Squad II
- Ereleius the Red, Blood Scribe.
One of the most fanatic War Scribes, practicing ritual scarification on his own body as a means of recording the most important bits of knowledge granted him on Terra. The words of the Emperor, he engraved on his very bones. Ereleius's work led to the establishment of the "Inscribed" Armor that all War Scribes Chaplains would eventually wear, and Ereleius himself would do great service to the Legion as their Grand Chaplain, ensuring that all remained pure. After the Heresy, his work would continue as the Grand Chaplain of the War Scribes' Chapter.
- Mohxes, the Warp Scribe.
This Marine was and remains the only true Librarian of the Scribes, a valuable and highly skilled Marine who achieved the rank of Sergeant just before his Primarch was found. Mohxes' attunement to the Warp was enormous, steadily growing stronger as the Marine became more practiced in its use, and so Arelex was forced to send him before the Emperor himself for judgement for he was still solidifying control of his Legion and establishing their doctrines. In those early days, Arelex had yet to develop the fanatical hatred of Psykers he would exhibit in the future. Because the request was so unusual, and came directly from one of His sons, the Emperor actually took some time to train Mohxes, certifying him pure and performing a ritual similar to what would later become Soul-Binding, though with much more finesse. This eased Arelex's concerns immensely.
Mohxes' final gift to his Legion was to stifle his own powers after the Council of Nikaea, upon hearing his Primarch's rejection of people such as himself. He disobeyed his Primarch at Isstvan, unleashing his stored power to ensure that the Legion's naval arm could escape the blockade by casting an enormous force shield into space to cover their retreat. It is said that Mohxes' sacrifice was the one and only time Arelex even considered the idea that he might have been wrong about Librarians and their potential benefits. Regrettably, Mohxes did not survive his herculean effort, and died in orbit over Isstvan.
- Bilzaion, the Delver.
Bilzaion spent most of his time on Terra digging through the savant's databases, practicing his Primarch's art. His efforts would prove crucial during the Heresy and the rebuilding of the Imperium afterwards. Later, he would become Chapter Master of one of the War Scribes' Second Founding Successors.
- Wolzhi Steelblood.
This Marine was once a being of simple flesh, but integrated bionics into every part of his body over time, laboring many years in order to prefect himself as an engine of war. Wolzhi's cybernetics are works of art, integrating ancient sciences with medical technology from distant, half remembered eras of Man. For many years, he was responsible for maintaining the War Scribes' most precious weapons of war, but despite his enhancements, the betrayal at Isstvan claimed this brave man's life.
- Pluthach, Willbreaker.
Pluthach is a master of getting inside his enemies heads, analyzing their writings, songs, artwork, and history to make his men fearsome in their eyes. When Pluthach leads a strike team, they invariably look, sound, and act like the demons or villains of their enemies mythology, and gain the advantage of fear. Regrettably, Space Marines know no fear, and when the Traitors betrayed the Legion at Isstvan, Pluthach was among the dead.
- Hellakonis, the Earth Striker.
Hellakonis is a master of planetary assault, the Legion's foremost expert on planets and how to properly subjugate them, even beyond his own Primarch. He's also the Marine who named Arelex's melee weapon, for it was said that Hellakonis is the mattock with which Arelex cleaves planets. Fell at Isstvan.
- Napotiel Greybeard.
Napotiel holds a special place in the roster of the War Scribes, being the very first member of their Legion. It is no secret that Napotiel and Arelex don't get along well, because Napotiel was never on board with the decision to take the Atalantos Cluster which consumed so much of his Legion's time. Though he respects his Primarch, Napotiel would forever remain a Terran born, full of a fire for conquest that few other War Scribes could match. Napotiel would distinguish himself as the War Scribes' foremost explorer, ranging far and wide across the Galaxy in the quest for relics, and the hunt for new threats to eliminate. His records are required reading for every War Scribes Scout.
- Celsam, the Xenos-Crowned.
The War Scribes fought long and hard to overcome the Necron threat, and none more so than Celsam, who personally led eight missions to infiltrate Tomb Worlds and destroy what lay within. His armor is bedecked with broken shards of dead Phaerons and Crypteks, and a metallic Imperial Laurel adorns his helmet, made of their melted-down Resurrection Circuits, ripped from their unliving bodies before he slew them. Celsam still fights on in the Galactic Core, piloting an advanced Cavilier Dreadnought with great gusto. He has not been awakened for almost two thousand years though, for reasons the Chapter cannot fully explain. They fear the damaged warrior inside may have finally died a natural death, though they dare not open the sarcophagus and risk killing him to find out.
- Ang-Quos, the Cremator.
This Marine spent a lot of time speaking with the Sons of Fire Sacred Band, and learned to enjoy burning things almost as much as they did. During the Heresy, the Marine was placed in charge of many of the War Scribes' Exterminatus-class weaponry, which he used with great gusto after Arelex went slightly crazy and ordered the deaths of almost a hundred worlds. After the Heresy, Ang-Quos rapidly distanced himself from the Sons of Fire, but the Legion never truly trusted him after they saw how ready he was to destroy, rather than reclaim. This was especially problematic when the Sons of Fire, alongside the Eternal Zealots, launched the Burning Crusade which so ravaged the Atalantos Worlds. Ang-Quos volunteered to go on a suicidal series of raids against the two Traitor Legions, culminating in a valiant last stand where he broke the back of the Traitors' final push for Atalantos itself.
- Lygrammon, the Master.
Lygrammon spent a great deal of time speaking with every other Marine he could find, desiring to understand the perspectives of those not born to his Legion. He developed many friendships, though many would have to be cut off during the Heresy, and much of what he learned shaped how the War Scribes fought or fought alongside other Legions, Traitor and Loyalist alike. Lygrammon survived Isstvan, only to fall during the Great Scouring.
Other Notable War Scribes
-WIP-
Legion Gene-Seed Status and Defects
The War Scribes and their Successors exhibit a handful of genetic abnormalities. While their genetic stability has been called into question during millennia gone by, the Mechanicus' official records state that there are no dangerous mutations inherent to Arelex's descendants.
Cosmetically, the War Scribes are known for their general hairlessness. It is very rare for them to have more than peach fuzz on their heads, and they are almost always beardless and bald. Their skin color varies wildly depending on how recently they've been exposed to radiation due to an overactive though highly effective Melanchrome system. A War Scribes Marine might begin the day as a bone-white albino, but end the day looking as if he had been carved from pitch black coal or obsidian. Occasionally, reddish or purplish hues may appear as the Marine's body processes cellular damage and expels dead cells through the bloodstream.
The signature mutation of the War Scribes is their Betcher's Gland. Far from being the relatively useless organ often ignored by other Marines, it is critically important to the War Scribes' health. Instead of producing acid, the Gland stores the Melanchrome's trapped energy from cosmic radiation or geological radioactivity, protecting the Marine's body from excessive rad-levels. When a War Scribe is in the presence of high-energy radiation, he need not eat, sleep or even breathe, and can continue activity seemingly indefinitely. The radiation allows his body to recycle its own oxygen and nutrients internally, breaking down metabolic waste into usable resources.
Other notable mutations include superior Lyman's Ears and enhanced Mucranoids. It is a commonly held rumor that no War Scribe has ever become nauseous or disoriented in combat. Their ability to operate in the vacuum of space even while unarmored is likewise legendary. Without a voidsuit or Power Armor, the War Scribes can survive and fight in space for thirty minutes or more before needing air or suffering injury.
Legion Doctrine
"Be unafraid, my children, when facing that which lurks among the stars. Know that always your brothers stand beside you, behind you, and above you. We are as one mighty being, all parts in place and united in purpose. Let the foes of Man beware our inevitable advance, for we shall betray no weaknesses, and no treachery shall prevail against you."
Short speech given by Primarch Orannis to inaugurate the War Scribes' advance into the Galaxy
Arelex grew up aboard a colossal Space Hulk, now known as the Palaestram Matyas, and that unusual upbringing left a deep imprint upon his Legion. Though the men of Nord Merica brought their homeland's strategies and tactics with them upon the Great Crusade, in truth they spent very few years left to their own devices. The Primarch joined them very quickly and immediately trained the Marines with his preferred methodologies.
In particular, Arelex learned combat in three dimensions. Aboard the Space Hulk, gravity was just another combat variable. Sometimes the hull-plates worked, sometimes they were inactive, sometimes their polarities were reversed and pinning Arelex to the ceiling. Corridors twisted and turned, bulkheads caved in at a moment's notice, horrible xenos and Warp entities might strike from any angle. Without total battlefield awareness, all would devolve into chaos and fear. And these lessons he taught his Legion in the very same passageways from his childhood.
Arelex preached a lesson of integration. To him, void combat held equal importance to ground operations, and ground warfare in its turn gave equal merit to atmospheric tactics. Over time and with experience, these theories coalesced into a holistic Vertical Envelopment strategy which the Legion preferentially employed. Though the War Scribes were perfectly capable of waging a footslogging war with tanks, artillery, and Marines storming fortifications, they much preferred to seize control of the skies and break their opponents down piecemeal.
First, their enormous fleet strikes mighty deathblows to any foes in orbit. Just as ancient warriors of Terra sought control of sealanes to block supply lines and intercept reinforcements, so too would the Scribes ensure their target planet was isolated from outside assistance. In the most ancient records preserved by the Legion's founders, ancient scraps of parchment speak of a legendary D-Day, a momentous achievement in warfare whose details are lost to the ages but that could not have succeeded without total control of the battlespace. Though the original Nord Merican Marines are long since deceased, their reverence for these and other documents still echoes within the Scribes' long memories even now.
The next stage of conquest requires zooming in the lens from the vastness of space to the comparatively small planetary atmosphere. Here, the struggle truly begins in earnest. The Scribes' fleet disgorges enormous numbers of Thunderhawks, Caestus Assault Rams, Drop Pods, and various other devices. Their objective is simple; to restrict the enemy's movement, to destroy anything caught in the open, and to seize land-based beachheads in strategic locations. Though air power alone cannot win planetary wars, it can reduce a broad, properly coordinated front line into a series of disorganized strongpoints easily reduced one by one.
Finally, assuming the enemy still retains their fighting spirit and refuses to surrender, the Marines move in directly. Here is where the War Scribes' relatively small but potent armored division is brought into play, employed as breachers for such defensive emplacements as have resisted Thunderhawk fire. The tanks are traditionally few in number, but are as large and powerful as possible. Knight Titans are often employed alongside these armored assets when possible. Even within battle-damaged bunkers whose layout is unknown, the Marines are well prepared with finely honed reflexes, ever watchful for unknown dangers.
If the battle proves more difficult than anticipated, particularly if the forces of Chaos manage to bring the Warp into play, orbital support is commonly employed in order to thin the enemy's ranks before engaging them with direct-fire weaponry. Though the Scribes do not relish the inevitable collateral damage this will cause, they do not hesitate to incinerate entire cities or even continents if necessary. Unfortunately, when the Scribes fight on inhabited worlds, they tend to cause a great deal of human suffering in pursuit of victory. If a Hive Spire must be destroyed by lance batteries in order to prevent a Daemonic incursion, then the Marines will fire on Imperial citizenry without hesitation. Still, they do not act with malice, but with an eye towards the good of the Imperium as a whole.
If ten thousand years of War Scribe combat philosophy can be summarized succinctly, it is that the enemy must not be allowed to coordinate his forces. All defensive lines must be shattered, every supply route must be cut, each strongpoint must be isolated, and the enemy commander must be rendered as ineffectual as possible. Though the War Scribes are Marines through and through, they see themselves as naval and aerial warriors just as much as groundpounders, and train accordingly.
Legion Tactics
"Above all else, trust yourself to act. It is shameful for a Marine to rest idle upon the field of battle, unable to strike without his commanders' say-so. We are one family, one will, one blood. Act with the Legion's best interests at all times, and you cannot fail. I fight for you, and you fight for me. Never forget that."
Napotiel Greybeard addressing fresh recruits
From the overarching Legion Doctrine is derived the War Scribes' preferred tactical approach to combat. Once the War Scribes commit to combat, their every step is precisely calculated for maximum effect generated from minimal force. Small unit tactics dominate the Legion's mentality, and its warriors are some of the most individually-capable Marines among the Legions, though they heavily rely on good command and control to maintain battlefield cohesion. Because of the Scribes' clannish nature, they have an innate sense of trust toward their fellow Legionnaires, without which their tacticae would surely unravel. Every Scribe knows that no matter where he is, his comrades are performing their part in the overarching battle, and his commanders' orders are not given lightly or frivolously.
Everything begins with naval control for Legio Secundus, and their titanic battlefleet presents an interesting contrast to the outside observer. Despite the vast firepower and overwhelming tonnage available, the Scribes apply similar tactics to their naval operations as they do their ground forces. The fleet operates in cells of about thirty vessels, composed of 2-5 Battleships, 5-10 Cruisers, 15-20 Destroyers or Corvettes, and occasionally 1-3 Fleet Carriers. From time to time, multiple naval cells may deploy to the same combat zone, but even in these circumstances they operate largely independently. After local superiority is achieved, the naval units will usually begin orbital bombardment to disperse enemy troop concentrations, as the Marines begin the process of planetary invasion.
Once the surrounding space is under control, all manner of Imperial aerospace vehicles swarm into the skies. Formations are maintained when possible, but this phase of combat is generally left to the discretion of individual pilots. A single Thunderhawk might swoop in to deploy troops, lift off to perform a strafing run, return to the fleet to assist with anti-fighter defense, and then reload to repeat the same cycle again in a different order, all in the same battle. For this reason, the Scribes rarely operate aerial formations of more than 3-4 vessels, though many dozens of these flights might be present in the same engagement. Controlled chaos might be the best way to describe the Legion's approach to this portion of invasion. The enemy will not be permitted to collect themselves or rally the defenses, nor will they be permitted to identify weak spots in a rigid order of battle.
Land warfare shows the power of small arms tactics more than any other facet of combat, and no military force is better adapted for this than Marines. Each Marine is like a small armored vehicle unto himself, and the Legion disembarks from Thunderhawks and Caestus Assault Rams guns blazing to secure vital terrain. From every angle, the Legion deploys its men, enveloping opposing positions in overlapping fields of fire and offering no paths for maneuver or retreat. No matter where the enemy points their guns, there is always another squad of War Scribes breaching the perimeter to get behind them and open fire into any blind spots. Even back to their earliest days on Terra in the colossal Nord Merican hive cities, the War Scribes are at home in caves of steel. Few if any Legions can claim to so readily adapt to the nightmare maze of urban combat. When other warriors would become disoriented and scared, cut off from their superiors and without orders, the Scribes' tight-knit military squads act on their own initiative, taking advantage of moment-to-moment opportunities that the chain of command could not possibly exploit quickly enough.
The Scribes are living proof of the sum becoming greater than its parts, and as they sweep across an enemy planet one can only compare them to a single organism striking with a thousand hands, bolters, aircraft, and voidships.
Legion Organization
Unit Structure
Frontline Chapters
By and large, the War Scribes are organized according to fairly simple principles. Out of 100,000 Marines or so, there were 90,000 belonging to 90 frontline Chapters of a thousand warriors each and their support elements. Each of these frontline Chapters were divided into two Battalions of 500 men each, rotating the Battalions into and out of war zones to spread the attrition on both. At the lowest level, the Battalions were divided into five Companies of 100 Marines, and thence into five Squads of twenty warriors.
Wandering Chapters
Ten thousand War Scribes were selected to leave the main body of the Legion almost as soon as Primarch Arelex took the reins of command. He personally selected the cleverest, the most independent-minded, and the most resourceful to be the Legion's eyes and ears in far off places. These Marines, though technically part of Chapters, would operate divided into hundred-man Companies or twenty members of a Squad.
Many questioned the Primarch's wisdom in sending their best and brightest out into the Galactic wilderness without meaningful support, but Arelex remained adamant that information was the greatest weapon the War Scribes could wield. If the Legion were to properly prosecute the Great Crusade, both they and the Emperor needed such intelligence available as soon as possible. It was a great burden the Primarch laid upon these soldiers, but also a sign of the very greatest trust. The Wandering Chapters were a hellish challenge and most of these Marines never saw their Legion again, but their tireless exploration and covert operations laid the groundwork for the War Scribes' relentless advance into the void.
The Wandering Chapters retrieved many STC fragments and other examples of technology and relics, immensely expanding the Scribes' datavaults. Without these Marines' effort, the Scribes would never have found the Sol Invictus, or the Necrons in the Galactic Core.
Specialist Ranks
Chaplains:
Chaplains of the War Scribes are honored indeed. Even before the Council of Nikaea, the War Scribes were some of the very first Astartes to begin studying means by which to counteract the Warp, at the direct request of their Primarch. The War Scribes believed that the Warp was something to distrust, though they had no idea of the true scale of the horrors lying within the Immaterium.
By the beginning of the Hektor Heresy, there were many War Scribes Chapters with several Chaplains per Company. Increasingly often, the War Scribes began to look to the Chaplains for battlefield leadership as well as moral and mental guidance. This trend would continue throughout the Horus Heresy as it became more and more obvious that the Warp was an enemy to be feared. By the 40th Millennium, though not all their Successors would adopt the policy, the War Scribes Chapter itself had officially instated a merger of Chaplain and Captain, though some Chaplains were not themselves Captains. Any Marine deemed good enough to lead a Company was also held to the very highest strictures of moral purity, and required to provide spiritual leadership as well.
In an unprecedented step, the entire War Scribes Legion gathered itself within the halls of the Basilikon Atalantos and voted on the matter, rather than let fear rule the day. Each and every Marine would be given a voice, because without common consent, the Scribes risked fracturing their Legion irreparably. The arguments raged for weeks, both for and against, but eventually a consensus was reached.
The Chaplains would form an indomitable bulwark against Chaos and the Legion would embrace anti-Warp defense, rather than Warp-based offense. No expanse would be spared in the Chaplain armaments and training, and any useful tool that could be placed in their hands that did not draw upon the Warp would be granted them. The War Scribes took a gamble at the end of the conclave, risking their very souls on the belief that the Warp could be defeated without using illicit or corrupt techniques.
So serious are the War Scribes' demands upon their Chaplains that it was deemed necessary to dedicate enormous time and effort to developing special equipment for them. Using the finest archaeotechnology available to the Legion, Primarch Arelex created tools by which runes of purity could be inscribed on armor, flesh, and bone, layering the Chaplains with multiple barriers and shields against corruption all the way down to their core. Special rites of hypno-indoctrination were created for the express purpose of teaching Chaplains to spot the smallest influences of the Warp, and it is said that only the finest of Inquisitors are better judges of an individual's corruption. Finally, each Chaplain's left eye is removed and implanted with a special bionic oculus that permits them to briefly peer into the Warp with reasonable safety. Though risky, this implant permits them to see through walls and other objects to spot Daemons lurking in the shadows.
To this day, there are few greater warriors in the fight against Chaos.
Sky Hunter Formations:
The War Scribes have a curious love for the Jetbike, even though it adds little to their ground operations that isn't already available via Thunderhawk or Fire Raptor. Despite the effort required, the War Scribes have taken great pains to ensure they are well supplied with Jetbikes across the entire Legion. Honored with these machines, the Sky Hunter squads are a cherished element of the War Scribes' organization.
Because Jetbikes can perform aerial drops from Thunderhawks and other similar vehicles, the War Scribes have chosen to use their Jetbikes in squadrons rather than deploy them individually. As the Thunderhawks move in to provide ground support, they will seed the Jetbike squadrons across the landscape, allowing the bikers to provide pinpoint fire support and spot for naval artillery if needed. It is the Jetbiker's task to root out any concealed opponents and either kill them or mark their position.
- War Scythe Formations
War Scythe Formations are a later innovation of the War scribes during the Heresy, in response to the overwhelming firepower arrayed against their depleted forces. Rather than disperse the Sky Hunter Squads, the Marines instead began to coordinate a handful of Jetbikes with a single Javelin Attack Speeder equipped with heavier armor and a special Force Field that could shield the entire formation for short periods. The Javelin gives up the second crewman and pintle bolter, as well as some of its missile carrying capacity, but the increased survivability of the formation was deemed more important.
- Techmarines:
Techmarines occupy a strange role in the Second Legion given the high levels of tech-knowledge among Arelex's Marines. It is not uncommon for the Scribes to simply pass along maintenance rites handed down from Marine to Marine since ancient days, and more than one Mechanicus observer has voiced his disapproval upon seeing a lowly Sergeant repairing his own armor, or a Scout altering his Sniper Rifle's settings without consulting anyone else.
Their most successful Techmarines are those that can navigate between the Scribes and the Mechanicus, reading the emotions and mindset of both. As children of two worlds they are some of the most diplomatic Scribes within the Legion, despite the usual perception of those who wear the red robes of Mars. Though many consider it strange to see a red-armored warrior bristling with mechadendrites acting as a diplomat or mediator to other Imperial forces, it is a surprisingly common occurrence with the sons of Orannis.
- Destroyer Squads:
The War Scribes care little for collateral damage in the field, for any enemy that necessitates weapons powerful enough to cause collateral damage is an enemy that has surely corrupted anything useful that might be recovered.
Necron worlds are xenos-ridden to their very cores, Eldar Maiden Worlds are laced with clever traps and treachery, and Chaos tainted planets must be delivered unto the sacred pyre. All of these foes must be destroyed as quickly and efficiently as possible, for their unnatural abilities are a gaping unknown that cannot be tolerated.
To that end, every Company is equipped with a separate Squad of Destroyers in order to level the playing field. To be a Destroyer is a great honor for the Legionnaires, knowingly accepting the risks and responsibilities of handling their deadly cargo. Though the War Scribes have higher quality gear available, the only path a Destroyer can travel leads inevitably to death on the battlefield, death through cancer and radiation poisoning, or interment into a Dreadnought.
- Phlegthos Dreadnoughts:
The handful of Destroyer Marines that prove worthy are given Dreadnought chassis tailored to their skills. With little more vulnerable biology to damage, and the armored Sarcophagus to shield them, these "Phlegthos" are found using all the various Dreadnought types, but with their standard armaments replaced with Rad, Volkite, and Phosphex weapons. For example, a Phlegthos Hellfire-pattern Dreadnought might wield a twin-linked Volkite Weapon and a missile rack containing Rad-Missiles, instead of a twin-linked Lascannon and standard missiles. These armored warriors are worth their weight in gold on the front lines.
The most frightening of all are the Contemptor Phlegthos. Though exceptionally rare, each Phlegthos Contemptor carries an Assault Cannon in each arm, made far more frightening by the large Phosphex slugs at the tip of every bullet. These horrifying adamantium warriors are unleashed only when all other options have failed the Legion and the time has come to simply hose the enemy in Phosphex. Spiraling green flickers of smoke emerge from the barrels, and brilliant green-white flashes of Phosphex herald the death of anything caught in their fell gaze. Even vehicles are not safe from a sustained barrage of Phosphex rounds.
In the 40th Millennium, the remaining Phlegthos Dreadnoughts are almost exclusively confined to anti-Necron duties in the Galactic Core, though from time to time a Captain in dire straits may request the Chapter detach one for his campaigns.
- Starguide Marines:
Because the War Scribes' fleet is so large, they can almost always count on having orbital support, if not orbital superiority. To exploit that asset, a specialist rank developed over time to help coordinate fire from the void.
Known as Starguides, these Marines undergo extensive and painful surgery to implant all manner of cogitators, relays, and neurolinkages akin to those used by the Princeps of a Titan, so that they may interface directly with a voidship's weapons arrays and personally guide the bombardment as a single unit. These warriors sacrifice their individuality so that the vessel they inhabit may split its attention between naval combat and ground support, and precisely direct its fire under the most trying circumstances. Even when the ship is fighting against other vessels, these Starguides act as coordinators for the Thunderhawk squadrons, managing them with fine detail for maximum efficiency.
These Marines can never leave the ships they are bound to, for the surgeries required rob them of the ability for independent action. Only when wired into a Thunderhawk's cockpit as its pilot may they again enjoy some of the freedom granted to other Astartes. To be a Starguide is a thankless task, but it is a common choice for disgraced War Scribes as final atonement for their failures.
- Maestro Ferrorum, Lord of Armor:
The Maestro Ferrorum is a dangerous individual indeed, being the commander of an entire regiment of the War Scribes' armored vehicles. This Marine is responsible for coordinating the fire of sometimes twenty or more mighty behemoths, directing their overwhelming power into the appropriate locations. It falls to the Maestro Ferrorum to find the path through an urban maze, the shallow points of a swampy bog, and the thinnest parts of a dense forest so that the tanks may approach unhindered. The Maestro is also in charge of ensuring that his regiment is properly supplied on even the longest campaigns, and so by necessity is an expert scavenger, repairman and scrounger in addition to being a master pathfinder and trailblazer.
Invariably, the Maestro Ferrorum personally commands a Fellblade of some variety, equipped with the best communications gear the War Scribes have available. When the Maestro is too injured to fight on his own, he is interred within this same vehicle in the manner of a Dreadnought Sarcophagus, and from the moment he takes command of the Fellblade until his death, a Maestro never abandons his armored charger.
Even the best Dreadnought may be slain relatively easily on the 40th Millennium's vast battlefields, but the sheer endurance of a well-maintained Fellblade means that the oldest Marines in the War Scribes Chapter are almost all ancient Maestros preserved as part of the tank's Machine Spirit.
Legion Equipment
The War Scribes Legion roamed far and wide, recovering many of the Great Crusade's most notable blueprints and STC fragments, unlocking their secrets and sharing them with the other Legions.
The War Scribes Legion is replete with these devices compared to almost any other Imperial force. In their arsenals are large quantities of Jetbikes, Fellblades, Rapiers, Cerberus Tank Destroyers, Contemptors, Javelins, Sicaran Tanks, Typhon Siege Tanks, and Deimos-Pattern vehicles. Where other Space Marines might have lost such patterns of equipment, the War Scribes are expert record-keepers, and their warfleet has critical data well dispersed and backed up, so that even great loss may be recovered from.
Unlike most Legions, The War Scribes are still able to equip their ranks with Volkite weaponry, a legacy of having acquired the necessary blueprints for such weapons and their factories early in the Great Crusade. Additionally, the War Scribes field Destroyer Marine squads, armed with nuclear, biological, and chemical weaponry from the Age of Strife, since by and large, the enemies they face deserve nothing better, and sometimes cannot be killed without these terrifying weapons. The Galactic Core is a dangerous place, and the Imperium loses nothing by irradiating already irradiated worlds, if it kills xenos in the process.
Even in the 40th Millennium, the Chapter and its successors will have access to much that the rest of the galaxy has forgotten, and their armies will look much as they did in the Great Crusade, an army from a more enlightened time.
The Memoriam
Ten suits of wondrous Terminator armor he built, offering unparalleled protection to the warrior inside. For most of the battle of (SOMETHING BAD), these ten suits of armor, worn by the greatest champions the War Scribes had to offer, fought alongside Arelex. Seeing that the battle was lost, Arelex ordered his Legion to leave (SOMETHING BAD), and the ten armors went with his men.
From that day to the current era, the armors have been designated the Memoriam, and one is given to each of the Captains of the War Scribes Chapter, including the Chapter Master. It is these ten men that are charged with remembering the locations and passwords to the War Scribes vaults, repositories, and naval command, guarding the essence of the Chapter eternally.
In times of greatest need, the Memoriam is assembled around the Chapter Master, and as a single unit they bring destruction to the fiercest foes. In this way, the Chapter carries with them the memory of their Primarch in a very real, visceral way.
The War Scribes Navy is the largest of all the Legion navies, blessed with a Primarch who recognized the utility of orbital firepower and the necessity of building an infrastructure base for his Legion. Fueled by the raw materials mined from the Atalantos Worlds and the processing facilities of its Forge Worlds and Narhadul, the Legion Shipyard, the War Scribes have built their forces to roughly 1500 vessels. The Scribes prefer larger ships like Strike Cruisers and Battleships whenever possible, as these ships are hard to totally destroy, and can be repaired at Narhadul. Lesser vessels are too easy for the Necrons to rip apart, and are not preferred or much respected.
Salvage is also important to Arelex's strategies, and recovering Imperial vessels is given high priority. Those who sail under the War Scribes' banner know that their Legion will go to great lengths to ensure their crippled ships are brought home safely. Many of the War Scribes' escort vessels are salvage ships, tugs, and shipbreakers, converted from damaged destroyers and similar ships.
The War Scribes' fleet is split between Battleships, Cruisers and Escorts along roughly 10:30:60 ratios, in contrast to the 7:23:70 ratios more common to other Legion fleets. While the bulk of the numbers are still Destroyers and other Escorts, the Scribes have a greater proportional tonnage at the high end than most.
Battleships: Approx. 150 vessels. Cruisers/Grand Cruisers: Approx. 450 vessels. Light Cruisers/Destroyers/Escorts: Approx. 900 vessels.
Notable Vessels of the Legion
Sol Invictus, Fortress-Monastery of the War Scribes
| Sol Invictus | |
|---|---|
| |
| Segmentum |
Ultima Segmentum |
| Sector |
Atalantos |
| Sub Sector |
Varies |
| Population |
1,000,000 Chapter Serfs and Support Staff, Several Companies of War Scribes |
| Planetary Governor |
Chapter Master |
The Sol Invictus is the greatest treasure of the War Scribes, the supreme monument to their merit as a Legion. Primarch Arelex himself wrested the immense vessel from a close orbit around the Galaxy's central black hole, a struggle lasting the better part of a year. The Sol Invictus was awash with radiation and gravitic tides, and only the Primarch's unconquerable desire to see this Dark Age relic restored to Humanity's service allowed Arelex to survive the hellish descent towards the singularity. Even when the behemoth vessel was removed from the gravitic tidal zone and all its deadly energy, the War Scribes could not even approach the vessel to assist their Primarch for three more years, so intense was the lingering radiation. For those three years, Arelex dwelled on the Sol Invictus alone, every day being injured and burned, every day healing himself back together with his Primarch's vigor and the ship's medical bay. Eventually, the fires of the Core cooled, and the War Scribes Legion took their first steps into a true technological marvel.
Upon being presented with the vessel as a trophy of war, the Emperor was so impressed with Arelex's determination to capture the behemoth fortress that he gifted the ship to the War Scribes to be their Monastery forevermore, the orbital counterpart to the Basilikon Atalantos. The Scribes would have a permanent residence within the Atalantos Worlds in order to eternally defend the Imperium against Necron threats from the Core, but the Sol Invictus would carry the Legion to the farthest corners of the Galaxy to enact the Emperor's justice whenever required.
In the glory years of the Great Crusade, the Sol Invictus was seen far and wide, leading many of the Crusade's thrusts into unknown stars, serving as an enormous safe haven for the fleets to rearm, refuel, and repair. In the waning years of the 40th Millennium, the Sol Invictus rarely leaves the Atalantos Cluster because the Necron threat has reached such a fever pitch, but when it does, for the briefest of moments the galaxy is reminded of the ancient strength of the Imperium and Humanity.
Equipment: The Sol Invictus is almost as large as Triton, Neptune's largest moon, though it lacks the internal volume of a spherical body. Endless reserves of material are stored within, everything needed to subjugate a planetary system and then prepare it for Imperial colonization. Though backups of all the War Scribes' carefully gathered knowledge are scattered in secret locations across the Atalantos Cluster and worlds beyond, the Sol Invictus houses a central repository where all is gathered in one place. Everything the War Scribes have ever learned is here, at the Primarch's, and later the Chapter Master's disposal.
The Sol Invictus contains row upon row of archaeotech foundries, some are original to the vessel and some were installed by the Primarch in later years. Though they are ever more resource-hungry with each passing year, these facilities are capable of keeping the War Scribes high-tech armies in fine condition and resupply, as well as the majority of their Successors.
Everything else one could want in a Monastery or a space station is present here as well. Conference rooms, training halls, barracks, medical facilities, communications arrays, laboratoriums, sensor equipment, rank upon rank of nested void shields, power cores capable of nearly limitless vigor, mighty engines and titanic Warp Drives, and every type of ship-based weapon one could imagine. The Sol Invictus is a world unto itself.
The primary armaments are a trio of colossal energy projectors at the vessel's prow. Two are smaller devices, useful for punching holes in enemy capital ships and more rapidly rechargeable for combat situations. The central energy projector, much larger than the other two combined, is used primarily for planetary subjugation and destruction. While not capable of outright destroying a planet, the main cannon is more than capable of scorching a continent with a single burst.
For the direst of circumstances, a Chapter Master is one of the few individuals authorized to perform Exterminatus. The Sol Invictus produces and stores two-stage Cyclonic Torpedoes for the War Scribes' use, generally against Necron Tomb worlds at the Galactic Core. These worlds contain no life upon them, so the Cyclonic weapons carry little risk of collateral damage, and the Scribes are not shy about their use. More than one Dynasty hiding in the Core's glare has been snuffed out thanks to the timely intervention of the Scribes, but dozens, if not hundreds, still remain. And some have awakened.
Ascent of Man, Gloriana Class Battleship, Flagship of the War Scribes
The Ascent of Man was the flagship of the War Scribes for many years, and served the Legion faithfully. It is regrettable that the retreat from the Isstvan Massacre resulted in the death of the mighty warship, but it was the sacrifice of her and all who served upon her that allowed the remnants of the Legion and their Primarch to escape with their lives. Without that surviving reserve of veteran troops, the War Scribes surely would have been wiped from existence.
The Ascent of Man is designed as a command vessel first and foremost, and its place is not at the head of the battle lines, but in the middle of the fleet. From this central position, its main cannon can reach out and pierce the enemy's heaviest armor, and its endless ranks of Thunderhawks can swarm in all directions to reinforce any weakened part of the War Scribes fleet. Should the enemy overcome even these defenses, the Ascent of Man bristles with exceptionally dense, though short ranged ranks of weapons batteries, both lances and macrocannons. Any foe thinking the War Scribes' flagship cannot defend itself from close assault is foolish indeed.
After the Ascent of Man was destroyed, the Battle Barge "Final Verdict" stepped in to take its place at the head of the War Scribes' fleet.
| TYPE/HITS | SPEED | TURNS | SHIELDS | ARMOUR | TURRETS |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Battleship/14 | 20cm | 45° | 4 | 6+ | 4 |
| ARMAMENT | RANGE | FIREPOWER/STRENGTH | FIRE ARC | ||
| Port Macrocannons | 30cm | 10 | Left | ||
| Starboard Macrocannons | 30cm | 10 | Right | ||
| Dorsal Lance Batteries | 30cm | 10 | Left/Front/Right | ||
| Port Launch Bay | Thunderhawks:20cm | 8 | N/A | ||
| Starboard Launch Bay | Thunderhawks:20cm | 8 | N/A | ||
| Prow Armageddon Gun | Range: Extreme | 1 | Front | ||
| Notes: Cost: 810 Points. The Ascent of Man has a War Scribes crew and an Honour Guard included in its points cost. You must assign the Fleet Commander to it. |
Final Verdict, Battle Barge of the War Scribes
This mighty Battle Barge carried the Chapter's most veteran troops into battle, and was responsible for the deaths of many worlds during the Core Conquests and the Heresy. The blood of uncounted billions of xenos is on this ship's records of honor, and at least as many heretics and traitors. Currently, the "Final Verdict" serves as the War Scribes Chapter's flagship, when not operating from the Sol Invictus.
The ancient vessel is well stocked for war, carrying enough armaments and vehicles of destruction to keep the entire Chapter in the field if need be. Most of its armaments are standard Battle Barge fare, though of higher quality because of its age. The War Scribes have modified the Barge by removing the massed banks of boarding torpedoes in the prow and replacing them with an enormous Mars-Pattern Nova Cannon, for use against Necron vessels which are difficult to damage with lesser guns, and pointless to board with Marines.
Legion Capital Ships
It is well known that the War Scribes, thanks to the profligacy of resources in the Galactic Core and their Primarch's administrative skills, had the facilities readily available for ship building. These shipyards were never idle throughout the Great Crusade, and by its end enabled the War Scribes to be almost fully self-sufficient, replacing combat losses without need of any other power. This greatly eased the resource burden their Legion placed on the Imperium's supplies, and allowed the Emperor to dedicate more resources to Legions in greater need. When the Heresy occurred, the War Scribes counted nearly 1500 vessels of all kinds in their naval arm, the largest Legion navy of all. They counted more Battle Barges and Battleships in their ranks than many other Legions.
After the Heresy, though many ships were lost at Isstvan and in other conflicts, the War Scribes' fleet became the backbone of Battlefleet Atalantos, defending the Core against Necron and other threats. Many of the vessels went to their Successor Chapters, and quite a few even wound up much farther afield, across the Ultima Segmentum. And though the shipyards of Narhadul took great damage during the Burning Crusade, they were repaired and are now one of the primary naval yards for the entire Segmentum.
Sol Invictus (Unknown Dark Age Class)
- Battleships:
Ascent of Man (Gloriana Class)
Lord of Storms (Apocalypse Class)
Force of Arms (Apocalypse Class)
Justified Avarice (Apocalypse Class)
Reclamator (Emperor Class)
Firewind (Oberon Class)
Infinitas Rex (Retribution Class)
Imperion Volant (Retribution Class)
Spiritus Excoriat (Nemesis Class)
Incendio Xenologica (Nemesis Class)
- Battle Barges:
Final Verdict (Legatus Class)
White Death
Farthest Star
Sundown
Pathfinder
Trailblazer
Repentance
Arelex's Pride
Legion's Hope
Shield of Atalantos
Emperor's Justice
Immolatios Heretico
Creed Bearer
Dawn Hunter
Void Predator
- Strike Cruisers:
The War Scribes Legion maintained a force of Strike Cruisers several hundred strong, using them as much to escort the Battleships and Battle Barges as planetary assault vehicles in their own right.
- Escort Vessels:
The Legion used very few Escort Vessels as part of their actual fleets. Those that were built were largely deployed to secure recently conquered systems after the Legion had gone. Standard procedure was to be constructing Escort Vessels continually on the march, leaving one or two behind after every conquest. Though this slowed the pace of the War Scribes, it greatly heartened the colonists and warriors left to bring the conquered worlds into the Imperium.
Notable successors
Not many War Scribes survived the Heresy, but post-Heresy, their numbers began to grow rapidly. Eventually, a number of Successor Chapters were split off, and the Scribes were one of the last Legions to formally disband.
As it now stands, the War Scribes are a fleet-based chapter, operating within the loose confederation of worlds known as the Atalantos Worlds. The War Scribes Chapter of the 40th Millennium looks much like it did in the 30th, wielding Crusade-era weaponry alongside small handfuls of even more ancient relics.
Knights Draconian
The first Chapter Master of the Knights Draconian, Nicholai Galilei, served as liaison officer to The Entombed during the Istvaan V campaign. While recovering from the wounds he suffered there, Galilei criticized the War Scribes' strategy for failing to properly co-operate with the other legions present. While the critique was not harshly worded, it created considerable controversy - especially because Arelex Orannis, busy with other duties, did not publicly reply. Internal dissent within the War Scribes made the break-up of the legion for the Second Founding painless: those who agreed with Galilei left, those who disagreed remained in their original colours. Subsequent bust-ups with The Entombed and the Eyes of the Emperor left an embittered Knights Draconian believing that co-operation is largely impossible. Big fans of the Inquisition.
Brothers Itinerant
| Brothers Itinerant | ||
|---|---|---|
 |
||
| Founding | Splintered after Dropsite Massacre | |
| Successors of | War Scribes | |
| Primarch | Arelex Orannis | |
| Strength | unknown | |
| Specialty | Piracy | |
| Allegiance | Renegade | |
Pirates, Cowards and Traitors. The first Master of Brothers, Neheziah Bo'ash, had been a middling officer of the War Scribes legion. His accomplishments hardly worth mentioning until his first commission to the command of an escort squadron. The man's prowess in ship-based combat became well noted over years leading up to the Isstvan Massacre. It was the beginnings of the massacre that truly forged the brotherhood. Their fleet had come under attack and in the confusion Neheziah ordered the squadron to retaliate against any ship that fired upon them. Having heard reports of massacre on the planet the fateful command of Neheziah came through to the other ships of the squadron. They were to quit the field until they could ascertain the best course of action and regroup with their legion. In the aftermath of istvaan when the squadron made their way to link up with the rest of their legion, they were fired upon. As it was assumed they were in league with the traitors or worse they were cowards.
Through out the duration of the heresy the brothers raided loyalists and traitors alike, looting for supplies and materials for their ships. Any legionnaire unfortunate enough to have survived their attack and refused their offer to join the brotherhood were press-ganged into service. Those who were more easily swayed to join the brotherhood would paint white their face plates and gauntlets It is to represent their mockery of honour and loyalty; having been betrayed twice over. The lenses of their helmets are either replaced or dulled into a dark black to represent their merciless or soulless nature. Over the years since the heresy the brotherhood has acclimated to a number of sorcerers or seers captured from their raids, who are sought after for their ability to fate their raids with success. Should however their fates be wrong one can only imagine the vicious repayment that would be visited upon them.
Other War Scribes Successors
Iron Scribes
Little is known of this Chapter, only that the War Scribes annihilated the entire Chapter, for reasons that remain unknown. The Inquisition believes the Iron Scribes to have transgressed by using and possibly even reverse engineering xenos technology, though they have no proof.
Sons of Whitestone
Responsible for defending the Atalantos Worlds against the Necron threat. Generally fights the Ulkhesh Dynasty.
Sons of Atalantos
Responsible for defending the Atalantos Worlds against the Necron threat. Generally fights the Zelrakh-Khemta Dynasty.
Sons of Orannis
Responsible for defending the Atalantos Worlds against the Necron threat. Generally fights the Il'Kholas Dynasty.
Lore Bearers
Known for their tendency to engrave their armor and weaponry with words of antiquity, everything from old poetry, to technical blueprints, to mathematical equations. Notable for having extremely good memories.
Shrouded Host
One of the few War Scribes Successors that is not stationed in or near the Core, the Shrouded Host is said to have uncovered some tidbot of data in the Primarch's records that says they will be needed in the fight against Chaos. Accordingly, they are fleet-based, in the space near the Eye of Terror, and maintain little contact with their parent Chapter.
Sky Renders
Notable for their use of Teleport Homers in conjunction with Drop Pods.
Because the Necron threat is so dangerous, and the planets near the Core so inhospitable to Scouts not wearing Power Armor, the Sky Renders have found the traditional deployment of homing beacons via infiltrating Scout Marines almost useless. Though many of the sons of Orannis have adopted this tactic, the Sky Renders are best known for it, using massed Drop Pod barrages to conceal a handful of Pods containing beacons.
The Pods land and the Marines deploy as normal, forming a beachhead, and they are rapidly followed by a massed teleport of Terminators to reinforce the assault point. They also make *extensive* use of Deathstorm Drop Pods containing Whirlwind Launchers and Assault Cannons rather than troops to provide additional weight of fire.
Venom Quills
A 26th Founding Successor of the War Scribes, the Venom Quills fight xenos threats on the Galactic Fringe, and despite their relative youth are quite well traveled. This Chapter favors the use of toxic weapons to rapidly subdue threats, and they keep a reserve of deadly poisons on hand at all times for any occasion or task. When they encounter and destroy a new species of xenos, the Chapter's Apothecaries take great pleasure in rending them down for useful components, sending most to the Genetors or the Inquisition, but keeping any novel toxins for themselves.
Currently they are very busy assisting in defense against the Tyranids. Their toxins are proving useful for now because of their sheer variety, but the Tyranids in their area are rapidly evolving countermeasures. Soon, the Venom Quills will have to come up with a new strategy, or perish.
Lightbringers
Known for using laser weapons almost exclusively, renowned for relentless campaigns and resistance to attrition. Masters of foraging and using weapons that require little ammunition or repair.
Rekindlers
RECORDS SEALED BY INQUISITORIAL ORDER EPSILON-SEC-TWELVE. CEASE ALL ATTEMPTS AT INQUIRY.
Arelex Orannis, Primarch of The War Scribes
The Atalantos Worlds
The Atalantos Worlds are Primarch Arelex's crowning achievement. Though progress was slow and the lives lost were many, no other Primarch managed to push the Imperium's boundaries closer to the Galaxy's Core. The Atalantos Worlds span several dozen major worlds, and countless mining colonies, from which the Galactic Core's resources are plundered with abandon, and shipped outwards to fuel Imperial industry across the Ultima Segmentum.
Necrons are here in great number, and other xenos as well, and the hazards of radiation and stellar cataclysms are always a deadly risk. Nevertheless, the lure of treasure draws in prospectors and explorers from across the Imperium, and there is never a shortage of slaves and convicts to labor in the crushing pressures and hellish temperatures inside the mines.
Because of the Atalantos Worlds' vast mineral productivity and Arelex's gift for management and logistics, the War Scribes were able to sustain the largest fleet of any Astartes Legion. Though the Legion was never the most numerous, their influence was felt across the Imperium, heralded by the sound of macrocannons pounding planets and the silent lash of lances spearing across the void.
| The Space Marine Legions of the /tg/ Heresy | |
|---|---|
| Loyalist: | The Entombed - Eyes of the Emperor - Scale Bearers - Silver Cataphracts Steel Marshals - Stone Men - Thunder Kings - Void Angels - War Scribes |
| Traitor: | Black Augurs - The Justiciars - Eternal Zealots - Heralds of Hektor Iron Rangers - Life Bringers - Lions Rampant - Mastodontii - Sons of Fire |