Sleepy Marines
"Entrusted to their mighty Battle Beds, the Sleepy Marines know no fear in this world nor that of dreamland. Held aloft their mighty transports, these mighty warriors do battle with the forces of Chaos on a nightly basis, tracking them mercilessly through their dreams to mete out justice where they will.
Marked by the holy vestments of sleep, their war pajamas are festooned with symbols of the Emperor's glory, as well as an assortment of plush familiars to protect them in battle.
Glory to the Emperor."
"The dream marines, they live inside of my head The dream marines, they come to me in my bed. The dream marines, they're coming to arBLAM"
They Sleepy Marines are a successor chapter of the Exorcists, making them impervious to daemonic possession, this makes them perfect for taking the fight to the enemy. During their time as an initiate they are taught how to lucid dream, the ability to control and manipulate the dream around them. After training they are linked into the mainframe while they slumber that acts as a psychic beacon, although it doesn't work like the astronomicon. They are passive psykers, not being able summon psychic powers themselves but being able to manipulate it for their usage, also a beneficial tool against the Great Enemy. The Beacon acts like a controlled warp storm that brings the malign powers of the warp into the mainframe and are held there like the containment grid in Ghost Busters. Basically its a trap. After they're successfully contained the marines are go to battle and defeat their foes. If a marine is slain his conscious is forced out of his body and kept in the mainframe, literally a ghost in the shell kind of deal, they're called Nightmares, because they appear out of nowhere and wreak fervent wrath upon the daemons assaulting their still living brothers.
The Dream Warriors, also known as the Sleepy Marines are one of the most faithful chapters of space marines in the Imperium of Man, as their fight is not only limited to the physical world, since it reaches the ethereal realms of dreams.
In their sleep, within their dreams, the Dream Warriors fight the forces of chaos that lurks in the nightmares of every imperial citizen, keeping them safe where they are most vulnerable. That's their fight, a never ending fight for the Imperium, for the hopes and dreams of even the lowliest guardsman.
That's their strength, but it's also their weakness, as even the mightiest warriors of the Emperor need rest, something that the Dream Warriors can never have.
Dream Warriors are assassins sent into the galaxy of dream worlds towards their targets to pick off influential people in their sleep.
There are also Explorers who go through the Shared Slumber, wresting its secrets, for it touches upon all lives, and so may contain glimpses as to what is, what was, what will be, and what may be.
Dreams naturally touch upon the borders of the Immaterium, so one does not need to be a psyker to go into it, but there is years of training to not only be able to control one's dream, but to step outside of dreams and into the reality between dreams, along with combat in such areas.
There are Dream Masters, the equivalent of captains in each chapter, who guide each Dream Warrior to strike at the best of his ability in an area, or to guide their dreams in mass against daemonic incursions before they can breach the Materium. There are few psykers, but their gifts can also be deadly for those who fight, as they could act as a backdoor into the Materium, like all psykers.
As for the Servitors, they are there to kill a person if they ever become possessed by outside influence, by chaos worshippers or worse.
Account recovered from the ruins of Stronghold Titan II, Courova XVI, author unknown
Of the far reaches of space blessed by the Emperor, cursed was that of Courova XVI. Stationed by the will of the Imperium there with my fellow guardsmen, a grim and dark battle raged incessantly between the chaos cultists that had infested the planet and our brave platoons. Despite our best efforts, the cultists had successfully managed to successfully appease the warp enough to call forth a unit of Berzerkers. Lined along the trenches encircling our stronghold, the vile hellspawn readied their forces for a decisive charge, one that, given our faith in His will, we did not expect to survive. At first glance I thought my eyes had deceived me, but this was clearly not the case. Lumbering slowly across the land between the two forces came a small number of what appeared to be heavily armored bedframes.. Given, that if one were to call them beds, they would have to note the strangely adorned sheets and pillows covering them, each themed to match with its rider. Taken aback by the encroachment of this strange new force, the Chaos cultists hesitated, waiting for them to make the first move. As the caravan of transports lumbered slowly along, we realized that these we're not those of battle, and as both sides looked on in puzzlement, the group ascended the hill and was gone.
None survived the ensuing onslaught, I write this now with the last of my strength, my life for the Empero*illegible*
Rules
Cranky: In the turn immediately after waking, the Sleepy Marines gain +1 to their WS and Attacks. However, during this time they are -1 BS, due to sudden exposure to light. In the next turn, they use normal Space Marine characteristics.
On the third turn after waking, all Sleepy Marines who are not in close combat fall asleep again
Sleeping Competition: Should the Sleepy Marines be fighting Necrons, each turn roll a D6. If it lands on a 1 or 2, both sides collapse and have a napping contest. The game immediately ends as a stalemate as neither side will wake up for a couple thousand years.
Brother-Marine Vestuvius
Vestuvius of the Sleepy Marines curled up in his Battle Bed, attended by servitors who awaited with warm milk and cookies to send him drifting back to sleep should he awake unexpectedly. Consciousness left him within minutes, and training kicked in as he grew aware of himself once more, garbed in powered armor and carrying a bolter. They were what was most familar to him, but he could easily rearm himself for whatever task was at hand; he was a Dream Warrior, one of the veterans in the fighting at the edge of the Immaterium where dreams drifted by.
A dark room surrounded him, the same bunk which he left, but desolate, empty of all life, even biomechanical creations such as servitors and servoskulls. With a few steps, he approached the door, but instead of opening out to the rest of the barracks, a dark, shimmering room appeared, filled with floating doorways of the Shared Slumber. The doorways led to all sorts of strange, unusual, and even horrifying places, from dark forests to endless lands made of squirming, twisting body parts, crying silently, down to the Red Maze beneath it all, unmappable and filled with horrible daemons who stalked its passages and stole a person, locking them away in some hidden place in the Shared Slumber, lost for eternity.
He was alone, but in their dreams, the Dream Warriors were always alone. But it was no matter. The doors drifted past, each offering a pathway towards worlds unheard of, some pristine, some filled with gibbering madness, Daemons can only dream of letting loose upon the Materium. But none of those were his destination. Instead, a black door with a crescent moon and stars swiftly advanced towards him, opening without a sound to envelop him whole.
There were trillions upon trillions upon trillions of glittering lights, each the private dream world of a sentient creature who was not sucked into the Shared Slumber to wander it endlessly until awakening or being dragged to endless sleep, and endless horror. He drifted through the 'sky', taking care to avoid the green mist which enveloped an immense portion of this area, the dreams of the Orks. They were brutish, just like the rest of the existence of the species, but unlike other creatures, the Orks' dreams were interconnected, and to assault one Ork would be to assault all Orks, and that would be suicide for anyone.
No, instead his mission sent him deep into the darkness, with one red light growing ever larger and brighter, from the size of a pinprick to the size of a world.
Many rookies made the mistake of entering their target's dreams directly. But that direction led only to woe, for to enter another being's dream directly meant that one was completely under the laws that governed that dream, a catastrophe in most cases. Rather, Vestuvius imagined. Imagined his brothers, imagined the might of the Imperium, imagined his guaranteed victory. As his imaginations grew, so did another sphere arose beside the first, the personal dreams of Vestuvius. These he entered, which shrank and wrapped around him until they were no thicker than a strand of hair, and garbed in his armor of imagination he stepped into the other dream.
A burning wasteland stretched forth as far as Vestuvius could see, as cultists looted and pillaged and raped to their hearts content through what was once a beautiful world of the Imperium, with a vast black fortress looming in the distance, shrouded by smoke and the stench of death. The cultists he ignored; they didn't exist here but as a shade, a figment of the imagination, and those that approached him simply vanished as they touched his dream barrier of uncounted victories and his Faith in the Emperor. With a single step, the world warped about him until he was in the inner sanctum of the fortress, a few feet from his target. The man, a traitor marine captain, naked and surrounded by daemonettes whispering about terrible secrets and deadly pleasures looked with horror at the Space Marine, while the daemonettes vanished completely, being naught but dreams rather than true Daemons.
With a roar, the man rose, surrounded in a suit of flame and wielding weapons of pure despair, and charged at the shimmering Dream Warrior, and they fought with thought and body and soul, their selves twisting their worlds to bring to bear as much deadly force as possible while armoring themselves in their own created realities, flashing power ripping apart everything around them until only two glowing figures floated in a dark, nondescript void where only their battle existed. Weeks, months, years passed as their fight waged on, until with a mighty war cry Vestuvius split the traitor open, whose ragged remains faded, along with the void as Vestuvius reentered the universe of the dream worlds. Knowing that his foe was finally dead, not only in his dreams, but in reality as well, he flew back towards the starry door, and back into the dark room of his barracks towards his sleeping body.
With a yawn, he awoke, taking a look at the chrono display. Only 5 hours passed since he first closed his eyes. Plenty of time to catch some sleep and prepare for the next assault upon the dreams of his enemies.