9th Legion [+]

Void Stalkers, The ninth, The Shadows of Emperor.

Number

9th Legion

Domains

Home system, Ocean world. Fairly extensive outposts, logistics, recruitment and repair hubs situated in the fringe sectors.

Legion Appearance

Dark Grey armour trimmed with Platinum coloured metal, secondary colour being a dark blue. Legions symbol is a bright white set of Tentacles or a Sea Dragon depending on if they are from Home worlds or Terra.

Combat Doctrine

Deep Void Operations

Legion Organization

Divided into Fleet based units that are built and taken apart based upon mission needs, each fleet is often unique to their purpose. However Its main organisation is divided into 5 main sub commands Polar, Lion, Bear, Ascendant and Nebula. Each part is tasked to continue the legions wider aims autonomously for long periods as needed.

The bulk of the forces start from established bases and logistics along their assigned territory and conquest plans, fleets independent and able to operate deeper strike at enemy from deep often in entirely unexpected thrusts and surprise attacks heavily coordinated between ships.

Strength. 90k Legionnaires as of closest estimate divided between The five sub commands.

First Captain Peraclus “Beomoths Bane” (Earned after leading a strike force that slew an enraged void whale.

4 Kiaros Lords of the fleet.

Pretors. Per 1000 marines.
Captains Per 100 Marines.

Legion Special Units

1st Company Terminators (The Nightkin, the Elite unit and honour guard,Cataphractii mostly.

Heavy Void Assault Company. (Void slayers). Veterans. Experts in boarding, inter ship defense and attack and breach of ship light environments such as hive cities and underground environments.

Kraken Assault teams. Heavy Mk3 , boarding shields, las cutters and such.

Night Stalker pilots. The Legions best pilots, often in command of rarer aircraft such as storm birds, advanced fighters and such. Daring pilots who push the limits of even space marines.

Legion Equipment

The legions maintain th4 standard array of gear from land, air, space and auch forms of warfare as required, their distance at times operating further from imperial supply lines means they sometimes are slower to get the cutting edge gear.

Legion Vehicles

Pretty standard, many of the fighters and gunships are more prioritised to anti star ship and so purposes but can be reconfigured as needed. Most of the vehicles are impeccably maintained though a little patched by the more distant supply chains. Replacements are not always quickly available.

Legion Fleet

Flagship.Gloriana Class. The Shadow Light. Designed for long range self sustained operations and ability to repair / support itself and fleet around it.

Dark grey with long dark blue markings down its length with a bright silver set of Tentacles that rose along its hull. From what was learned its hull was augmented with the best sensor baffling, jamming and decoy technology available.

Honour Class Star forts, the adapted Endeavor class with increased manufacturers capacity at expense of some of the firepower.

Forge class heavy repair ships built on the frames of Emperor Class BB And used to assist in fleet support. Well armoured, gunned and often used to support larger formations. Heavily fitted with the ability to Refine, make and maintain war materials, construct and sustain needs.

The Thunderbolt class fast recon vessels, designed for pure speed, long range and enlarged warp drives. Lower on weaponry and armour in exchange for their speed and exceedingly powerful Main engines able to rapidly Evade enemies instead of direct conflict.

The total fleet is sizable with extensive logistical ships, light escorts and support vessels to keep its forces far flung in the fight at the tip of crusades spear. Heavy Assets are well screened and often at the heart of larger formstions with imperial army, supply formations, allies groups and other forces gathered together.

Legion Relics

Golden Spear of Granus. An ornate and highly valued power weapon believed to date back to DAOT. Only one who can break the will of it may use it.

The Glory of Terra. An exceedingly rare ship found, archeotech with highly advanced stealth technology. It's technology is still yet to be fully understood or if they even reached its full potential at all. Almost impossible to detect but unique and its technically copied from but never bettered or matched.

The Drake pattern storm birds. Custom rebuilt for more speed and fitted with heavy EW systems to spood other attempts to get a firing lock.

Can be deployed as part of a wider decoy combination defensive measure.

Background

Originallly founded from the former pascicus region of Terra, the Legion was quickly singled out in their ability to push deeper and with a concentration on establishing ships and infrastructure to push into the darkest voids where the Emperors light shines the brightest.

Their homeworld is a water world of tribes who live and make their way o a world of almost 95% endless seas.

They glitter a deep blue from the musted star at the system's heart.

The Legion has not always been the most famed of the number but they have always executed and succeeded pushing deeper into places others would not. They attained a great success when they found and managed to bring a system of lost humans to the light, unlocking a future forge world and a foothold into a much wider region previously unmapped and known to sustain future crusade fleets. True to their nature they did not sit back and kept moving on towards the unknown.

This route the found bypassed a dangerous area of warp space that had claimed at least 2 scout fleets alone known, maybe more.

Jasonus, the 9th. [+]

Jasonus Athenus

Titles

Light bringer, Lord Pathfinder, The Master of vanguard host.

Gender

Male

Homeworld

Pythagorium. Water world.

Personality

Never the warmest, the Primarch however is not inhuman and so.

Never one to be the greatest warmaster, still the quieter, calmer force of utter confidence into the unknown.

Skills

Skilled craftsmen, Logistician, Ship to Ship and large fleet engagements, long range operations and raiding.

Equipment

The Night Scales. Custom built power armour, Dark grey with dark blue and platinum details. The main plates are dulled and clad with outer layers of additional materials to confuse auspices.

The Helmet and torso are covered in the platinum designs of a Tentacles path that hides the jamming technology. The cloak is a shimmer fabric backed over adamantium scales to help make the wearer harder to hit. It has enhanced thrusters for zero G and is able to reprocess Air to extreme efficiency.

The Star Splitter. A slightly bizarre yet effective hybrid Of a thunder hammer with a power axe blade also on the other side, able to be used in one or two hands.

Three Sisters of judgement.

An ornate Grav phospor styled in the form of a heavy Terran style revolver, with heavy shielded cells to prevent accidental detonation. Built as a paired set of weapons. Somewhat controversial even among the Legions, a dread weapon of last resort. The Pistol was often reserved for Xenocide or the worst of Xeno slavers. Their was not hiding from the sisters.

A matching volkite pistol pair to the first sister, and a Grav pistol. Though the Volkite is far more routinely carried, the three fates.

Precision, potent elemental fury and the harbinger of the horrific end.

Fusion cutters, one per arm as a hold out surprise weapon. Able to in last resort channel the energy into a powered cutting force at extreme close ranges.

Background

The Primarch crashed into the water world of Pythagorium, a world of tribes and cities that sat on the edge of the vast water bodies that covered the planet. The Primarch landed close to an island bordering the Southern seas on night of intense storms when many boats were lost but one was washed up alive among the wreckage.

That child rapidly grew into a leader adopted by the lords of the isle showing great promise in many arts and martial skills. they made their life upon the intense seas, a land of plenty for those with skill and bravery to sail the storm racked world.

It was a dark night in the season of storms his adopted father was slain by his advisor who was a traitor. The day of the feast only a few days time he was due to announce the great plan they had worked on for years. To reunite the world under one banner and end the endless minor wars that held them back. So Jasonus was one who took the lead, his honour to ensure his Adopted fathers work was carried out.

The traitor was later caught, his attempt to escape justice failed and he returned chained and locked up tight. A Primarchs wrath is not a small thing and his death was slowly being eaten alive by sea beasts.

Bringing unity to the planet was a task of years and sacrifice, it's disparate nature, evolving the construction of ships and the world's technology to better harvest and utilise the planet's material wealth. That was the breaking point when the Primarchs City state took and grew to become the ruling Force across the planet for the most part. Wood became metal, sails became coal and the changes began.

Though its population was small the coming of the Emperor and expansion of the influence of the world has brought a rapid change.

The Emperor's ship was seen as a golden light in the night sky on the eve of the planets celebration of unity. An figure came to challenge the planets lord and master, many had tried as was custom, a Lord had to be able to hold their crown. This one was different and the challenge was chosen, a test of Skill in the great celebration of unity. Games, feasts and marriages to bring the warring factions into peace and form bonds to end the times of conflict.

The Emperor's victory came in the final contest, one that combined skills of multiple crafts and disciplines. Bowing to the Emperor, the world joined the Emperors domain and its transformation began as the fleets brought skills, technology and materials entirely unknown before they came.

The Legion though smaller has an respectable roll of honour and there progress. Though not the best, largest or most powerful they have earned their respect. The Primarch is the same, they have through hard work achieved success including the unlocking of several now main warp routes that supply the forefront of the Crusade.

Primarch XIII, Yerleg Khan [+]

Yerleg Khan

Titles

Whispering Lord, Thirteen

Gender

Male

Homeworld

Udan

Personality

Calculating, mercurial, and suspicious, Yerleg finds there to be no action by another which is not predicated upon gaining something in return. All things have a motive built upon self-interest and the more charitable an act is, the more beloved one emphasizes upon the action, the more insidious that self-feeding motive is. He believes that the Imperium, as a whole, is a flawed creation built by a flawed master - the Emperor of Man, after all, cannot be a perfect being because were he so his sons would not have been scattered, his Imperium would not be so misshapen, his politics would not be so teetering. As such, all things therein must be questioned, never accepted without pause, and though all things should be worked to be improved upon it is never a guarantee. His preference to do so, of course, is by replacement, by cleansing the upper cadres, by reeducation of those expected to step into the empty shoes.

Skills

Assassination, Saboteur, Torture, Puppeteer

Equipment

Mortis - Transonic Blade of Udan origin
Hymn - Archaeotech Pistol
Panoply of the Shadow - Mark IV power armor with cameleoline painted plates, conversion field,

Background

Born, kept, and dispersed the same as his brothers, Yerleg Khan would hurtle along until he found the distant world of Udan. A hive world of immense proportions, covering the vast majority of the planetary surface save for the terrariums and factory-farms, he would fall past most of it to the lower levels of the hives. The gestation pod would be pried open by a group of the least afraid gangers hoping for some bit of tech or another to sell. What they found instead was a child, albeit a strangely healthy one for such a place, and the enticing thought of meat grew on the ganger’s minds. A life of strange sludge, fungi, and other packaged substances amplified the urge, as well as the mantra that one grew by what one ate.

It came as a surprise to all onlookers when the one onlooker drew forth, dispersing those jackals with a look and taking the child enclosed within. That was one of the underhive warlords with gangs arrayed beneath him, a man of great age, cruelty, and cunning, a man of foresight and who knew that such a thing did not come often or without reason. He took Yerleg in as his son and pupil, naming him such and teaching him the ways of rule in the underhives while the nobility above sought to find where the strange object had landed. It became apparent enough to the warlord that the child was gifted not only mentally but in the arts of assassination too, a strange enough thing as time passed and it grew obvious that the boy would outgrow any who were once his equal in size. He learned quickly from the assassins that the warlord played host to, becoming an instrument of silent death on Udan.

A creeping realization came on Yerleg as time passed, though, that the warlord did not intend to grant any more than had been given. A cold logic fell over the child, that the warlord gained much by his hand but mismanaged all of it, failed to appreciate it, and a hunger had implanted itself firmly in Yerleg. He knew he could do more and was determined to make it so. A few years of preparation passed, deaths and whispers delivered wherever needed, and the underhives exploded in the most planned manner they ever had before or since. The warlord and his rivals fell, either by one-another’s works or by Yerleg’s own hands, and by the end of it he had seized the reins of power there all for himself. Of course, another sat on that throne who knew his role, but the result was all the same.

The following works came like a bloody tide over the world, an occurrence even the nobility in their high towers could not miss and yet were helpless to halt or influence. His rivals fell like chaff, one after another after another. Some became embroiled in fierce infighting, their forces along one avenue suddenly weak from a lack of reliable munitions or clean water, while others fell victim to the infrastructure itself. Three districts drowned in toxic sludge removed several opponents in the grand scheme, and similar events claimed even more. By the end of the year, the underworld had largely been cleansed of its biggest players and those who remained swore fealty to another.

Yerleg emerged to the nobility, then, and gave an accounting of himself. The underhives were his, the vast majority of the world, and by their failure to being those same districts to heel they had declared themselves unfit. As such, he would be best for the world and he alone. They refused, though, unwilling to give power to the upstart, the nobody, the nothing, and Yerleg smiled. He left the high spires and bore himself to work delivering the good news to those nobility. For months, nothing occurred in their eyes. The trade ships to their close colonies came and went, delivering foodstuffs and leaving with manufactured goods. Nothing else came, nothing else went. The underhives were gnawingly quiet, save for as much violence as they always had bore. It ate at the nobles such that they sent spies down again and again, though no message returned from these nor did any of them ever return themselves.

When the moment came, those same close colonies delivered news of their rebellion. They had learned of how weak Udan had become, so weak that they could not even give control over their own planet, and wished better deals than they had ever fought for before. Shipments from those worlds ceased just as the transport lines from the terrariums and factory-farms failed, food to the upper spires ceasing. The few planetary defense vessels could not be spared to send, and even then it wasn’t even known if they could make the journey to those colonial holdings. The nobles were paralyzed, save for those few who felt that they knew what had to be done.

House guards and levies from the highest spires, citizen-soldiers who had grown in hatred of those below who thought they could rise above, attempted an invasion and cleansing of the underhives the likes of which Udan had never seen. The districts erupted in destruction and vicious house-to-house fighting became the standard of the day. Among it all, Yerleg was seldom to be fought, his captains down below following the master scheme out of the realization for how desperate their situation truly was. Few locations grew safe for the nobles who had spearheaded this attempt though, from fuel tank detonations to fires to floods, and by the end of the first day most were dead. By the end of the first week, they were all dead. Their lines of retreat cut away, the invaders were defeated one by one in their pockets, surrounded by filth and flooded districts, and Yerleg went once again to the nobility to appear among them amid one desperate meeting.

He gave a chance, yet again, and the nobles in that senate house begged for a mercy they were sure would not come. Yerleg killed each and every one, allowing the infantile heirs to survive under his own tutilage, and called forward that meeting with the colonies. Yerleg’s approach to these was simple, that if they did come together they would die alone and he would seize what remained of their worlds, that their rebellion was not solely of their own making, that those who called him master were already within their ranks. The colonial governments, fearful of the new unknown and wary that such a person could rise from the underhives to become ruler of such in so short a time, relented.

For a decade, it was good. The underhives knew an age of iron peace enforced by anonymous eyes everywhere, of a monolith known as Justice whose hand fell as need be, and the high spires knew an age of bridled progress and competence, of waste-not hierarchies and fools disappearing from the edge of the earth. Fear abided most all. There was construction, true, but Yerleg’s bloody revolution had done so much damage that it was difficult to restore what had been forever lost. Then a golden ship came, a stranger from the stars. They spoke and, when all was said and done, Yerleg left Udan for the stars. He still did not fully trust this man who claimed to be a father, yet had not reached out a hand ever in his youth as a father might, but did know that such extraordinary stories would provide an explanation for his skill, his capability, his biology.

He left Udan for his Legion, finding them as nothing more than violence and blood, savage killers who took worlds again and again and again with not a thought for what the worlds would be after. He found them lacking and it enraged him. The Legion Master and his Captains were flayed for their failures to become something more, to be satisfied with the lot in life of death and death and death again, flayed and displayed for their successors to see. He withdrew his Legion, known then as the Kings of Slaughter, and began to retrain them in his eyes. Yerleg soon enough separated the wheat from the chaff, the teachable from the mindless, and the latter he dispatched to the Imperium’s bloodiest campaigns. The former he taught for the shadows, for the discrete strike, for the kill another would take and the blood would never even reach their hands.

When his teachings were done, the Kings of Slaughter were dead and gone, the Death Masks rising from that grave. They soon embarked on pacification campaigns against the enemies of the Imperium, against the enemies of the Legion, against the enemies of Yerleg, and those three were never entirely the same. Upon learning of the Assassin Cults controlled by Terra, the Officio Assassinorum, the Primarch decided that no order controlled by such would have a card above he. He garnered a number of requests to the Officio, subtle enough that the few would ever know, to secure a limited amount of the substance. The finest chemists who could be sourced away were secreted into disappearance as well, their genius replicating the substance, providing the Legion its own source of shifting agents after decades of work.

Of Yerleg himself, though, he has rarely been seen among either his brothers or among the Legion’s front lines - were the Death Masks ever to truly have a front line. No Legionary there claims knowledge of his whereabouts, nor would they often reveal their own names to another outside the Legion.

Legion XIII, Death Masks [+]

Death Masks
“Thrice-Born”

Number

XIII

Domains

Udan and associated colonies (Tamag, Ulukayın)

Legion Appearance

With their armor painted deep teal with black shoulders and helmets, Death Mask Legionaries rarely bear obvious outward signs of their formations or identifications. Markings of veteran status on the armor is restricted, such as campaigns fought or kills, and removal of the helmet by a Death Mask among those not of the Legion is forbidden. For identification to others within the Legion, such things as discrete signs and countersigns, pronouncement of certain words, and rhythmic tics such as tapping against the armor in a certain stattaco are all used when the helmet-aided notifications fail.

Combat Doctrine

Infiltration, Covert Operations, Independent Operatives

Legion Organization

Total: 80,000 Astartes
Primarch
40 Grand Companies (2,000 Astartes) - Lord Captain

4 Battalions (500 Astartes) - Lieutenant Commander

5 Companies (100 Astartes) - Company Captain

Legion Special Units

Operatives

Mortal agents utilized by the Thirteenth, these vary wildly in skills, methods, and intents. At times willing tools, at other times unwilling servants through hypno-induction, operatives of the Death Masks can be in place for decades as informants, info-cants, assassins, or saboteurs until the moment is directly right. They may be recruited directly or hereditary on the oldest worlds, believing themselves to be acting in accordance to the will of Terra itself. The most deadly of these are assassins reserved by the Legion for specific operations, specifically trained in the use of re-engineered Polymorphene and under near religious dogma.

Saboteur Consuls

Astartes dedicated to the act of destruction by the indirect means, the Saboteur Consuls of the Thirteenth work to know the enemy plan, the friendly plan, and to have contingencies forever in place to turn both into a self-defeating nightmare. Often deployed separately from even the Legion’s forces, and often deployed ahead, they provide key intelligence across all facets of the battlefield as well as numerous additional options for victory.

Kormos

Developed in response to the ravenous killing tendencies of the underhives, the Kormos are a direct antithesis to the doctrines of the Death Masks. Where a Saboteur Consul kills such that none knows who kills and moves on to the next, the Kormos achieve infiltration before massacring all within their range. Often armed with large numbers of melta charges and volkite pistols, it is only through a number of hypo-inducted signals that such Astartes grow conscious again from their blood frenzies. Casualties among the Kormos are expectedly high.

Legion Equipment

Roughly standard for the Legiones Astartes, the Thirteenth does stock inordinate numbers of Cameleoline cloaks and nets, as well as Vox signals intercept gear, jamming equipment, and a large number of Servo Skulls for the purposes of situational awareness and reconnaissance. Their Power Armor is often altered and improved for stealth purposes, despite the seeming age of these. Bolters among the Death Masks are often loaded with heavy armor-piercing bolts intended to slice through enemy armor and shells, destroying vital parts simply by their travel, or loaded with delayed detonation bolts.

Legion Vehicles

Standard for the Legiones Astartes, the Thirteenth Legion employs its armor often in an independent role to other forces as an applicator of pressure against the enemy command scheme, forcing them to react to such while other Legion assets move into place. They are often employed piecemeal, with electronic systems generating the signature a far greater bulk of forces than otherwise. Deployments into combat itself, however, do often occur alongside the drop-pods of the Legion.

Legion Fleet

Notable Vessels:

Stalker of the Gulfs - Gloriana class Battleship
Traitor’s Ruin - Ramilles Class Star-fort, modified for Legion logistics, fleet maintenance, astropathic signals interception, location unknown

The Thirteenth operates a number of independently operating cruisers and heavy Battle Barges, often forming these into sudden concentrations against vulnerable targets before dispersing along several vectors. Their smallest vessels, however, are known to act as deployment methods for Saboteur Consuls on worlds further within enemy space, rapidly entering and exiting the system on often minimal power to avoid detection.

Legion Relics

Oblique Seat

A high-backed seat with several syringes and patches along the arms, the seat applies a potent mixture of chemicals through the skin and blood in order to ensure the seated speaks the truth and only the truth. While it is said to be archaeotech, others within the Legion believe it to be Udani manufacture.

Starlit Key

A simple steel key of human manufacture, found in the void of a xenos world, its mere existence is puzzling to say the least.

Background

Originally the Kings of Slaughter, a Legion that held little in comparison to their gene-father, the Thirteenth embraced the violent rush, the charge, the bloody cleansing of worlds that would eventually go to the Imperium. Under that moniker they won many victories for the Imperium, but their name was never among those celebrated by Terra, nor did they give parades and examples for the people to gawk at upon the edges of the Imperium. The Imperial Army were loathe to work alongside the Thirteenth, so concerned were they for their own safety in the midst of the battle.

Then, one year, it all stopped. The Kings of Slaughter seemed suddenly diminished in number yet they rushed to the most vile campaigns the Imperium could offer them. They fought again and again until there were so few of them left that it seemed the Legion might die out in a mess of its own making. Then, without warning as well, the Death Masks arose in their place and a great noise was made among the highest of Terra’s nobility that the Thirteenth Son had been found.

Since then, the Death Masks have been engaged along the peripheral line of the Imperium on many campaigns, though rarely is it in one place for long.

Hello folks, I'm tossing my hat into the ring with a Primarch and a Legion. Hope this is okay.

Ashar-Zul, Primarch of the Fifth Legion [+]

Ashar-Zul

Titles

The Pale Seer, Veilborn

Gender

Appears Masculine

Homeworld

Kalos Tertium, Dark World, Orbiting a dying Star, extremely close to the edge of Van Grothe's Rapidity

Personality

Quiet, Studious, Melancholy and Pained. A fine group of traits for a man who can feel and see the Warp at all times. Forever seeing the roiling stream of souls and energy that is the Warp has made Zul very quiet, and careful, as he sometimes has a hard time telling what is real and what is a fragment of Chaos. He studies endlessly to understand what he sees and what he can do with what he sees. Perpetually sad as he stares into the faces of the Dark Powers, and fights with himself and them over control of his powers. On top of all this he is in near constant mental pain, as his Psyker abilities war with his primarch restorative abilities. His connection to the warp strong that is ravages his body while his physiology works to repair the damage. This makes him quite an interesting sort in close company. As he's forever grimacing and looks like he smells something bad. He's fairly sane in most ways. Though constant contact with the Warp leaves him seeing and hearing things

Skills

Psyker - Alpha Minus grade, Where his brothers are all too a one powerful fighters, Ashar has found nearly eighty percent of his ability poured into a powerful Psyker mold. Which has left him physically weak but psychically strong. He dabbles in almost all the Psyker arts, but truly favors Biomancy, the Art of Physical Manipulation. Psi-Kinetics, the Art of Moving the world with the powers of Psykers. And Pyromancy calling forth the flames of creation itself...and setting alight near anything he wishes. The man can push over a Battle Titan, and maybe cause an Emperor Titan to stop in it's tracks by sheer Psychic might, but still pales before the God-Emperor's power.

Profound Tactician - Ashar does not like drawing out battle. He perfers to get things done with as soon as he can so he can keep his Sons from dying too much. So Ashar spends a great deal of time before going into battle planning and creating tactics for the upcoming altercation. He tries to plan as many steps he possibly can, with the information his scouts can get him. Adding in the things he sees when venturing into the Warp with his mind, his tactics hit hard, and hit well.

Veiled Sight - With careful preparation, he can look into the future maybe a few minutes to a few days, see his brothers, see his father, gaze upon distant locations and events. At the cost of having to gaze directly into the Warp for a period of time.

Equipment

Seer's Shroud - The Ribbons and Silk lengths tied about his armor which flow and flap in an unfelt wind, function as a focus for his Psyker abilities.

Crown of Thorns - What appear to be several shards of debris and scrap metal floating behind his head, is actually a Iron Halo-esque assembly that act as a shield for his mind.

The Orb of Lu - Bearing the name of an Ancient Dark Deity, the Orb is a piece of Archeotech, encased in a clear crystal substance, and acts as a powerful Volkite weapon, on par with a Volkite Cavitor weapon, supplementing his already intense Psyker abilities.

Background

Among the towering legends of the Emperor’s sons, Ashar-Zul was a paradox—physically frail, yet unimaginably powerful. His form, tall and gaunt, was wrapped in brigandine armor of storm-grey and silver, its plates fine and overlapping like the layers of knowledge he possessed. White silken ribbons and banners trailed from his arms, thighs, and shoulders, carried aloft by unseen forces, billowing as though whispering the words of fate itself.

At the center of his brow rested a silver, featureless third eye—a sigil of his immense psychic potential. When opened, it did not see the material world as others did but instead beheld the infinite strands of the Immaterium, the weave of thought, fate, and possibility.

Ashar-Zul did not tread the earth as his brothers did. He drifted, suspended two feet above the ground, his presence heralded by the crackling resonance of psychic energy, thin tendrils of light flickering and dissipating beneath him with every motion. Each step unseen, each moment effortless—as if the very gravity of the world held no dominion over him.

Though his brothers were warriors of strength and wrath, Ashar-Zul was a blade of thought, an instrument of revelation and horror. He could peel apart a man’s mind as easily as others could break his bones. Yet, despite his power, he was fragile—his frame unable to bear the rigors of combat, his armor more ceremonial than functional. He fought with will, not with blade, and when he struck, it was as a storm in the aether, breaking the minds of foes before they ever lifted a hand against him.

Some whispered that he was not wholly of the Materium, that his presence existed in two worlds at once, that he was more akin to a spirit of thought than a being of flesh. He spoke in a voice like distant thunder, his words carrying echoes of futures yet unwritten, the weight of revelation pressing upon all who heard.

Yet, for all his wisdom and power, Ashar-Zul’s path was one of sorrow. For what use was knowledge when no one could bear its burden? What use was foresight when fate itself was an unbreakable chain?

Ashar-Zul’s journey to Kalos Tertium began as all the Primarchs’ did a sudden, violent scattering through the Immaterium, cast through the endless tides of the Warp by the ruinous hand of the Dark Gods. Unlike some of his brothers, who crashed to their new worlds in fire and ruin, Ashar-Zul’s arrival was altogether stranger.

He did not fall. He did not plummet from the heavens as a meteor to scar the earth. Instead, he drifted, cocooned within a sphere of pale, luminous light, wrapped in a gossamer field of psychic force that shimmered with unearthly patterns. The storm-wracked Warp spat him out not with a roar, but with a whisper, the silent parting of the veil between realities. His presence was not marked by devastation, but by a quiet disturbance, a ripple in the aether that sent shivers through the minds of those who could hear the silent frequencies of the universe.

The world that claimed him was Kalos Tertium, a dying planet locked in orbit around a guttering red star. The skies were perpetually dim, cast in shades of twilight, the horizon painted in hues of deep crimson and sallow gold. The land was barren, a realm of ash deserts, jagged obsidian ridges, and vast dust seas, haunted by the whispering winds of a world long past its prime. The only light came from its dying sun, a wan glow that barely held the darkness at bay.

Yet, it was not an empty world. The Kalosi were a people as wan and spectral as the world they inhabited. They lived in great subterranean catacombs, labyrinthine cities built into the bones of the planet, where they huddled beneath the surface to escape the cold embrace of their world’s inevitable demise. Long ago, they had been masters of knowledge, an ancient culture that had built libraries of crystalline data-archives, monuments to thought and memory. But their civilization had withered, their wisdom turned to hollow prayer, their science into ritual. They lived in fear of the dark, of the endless void beyond their dying world. And in their myths, they spoke of a final dreamer who would come to them before the end—a being who would not walk the earth but drift above it, a being who would see through the veil and speak with a voice that was not wholly his own.

When Ashar-Zul descended upon their world, his pale sphere of light came to rest at the heart of one such subterranean city. The Kalosi scholars and mystics gathered in hushed awe as the glow dissipated, revealing a tall, frail child, his dark skin marked only by the silver, featureless eye on his brow. He did not cry out. He did not stumble or weep as an infant should. Instead, he floated, his feet never touching the dust of the catacomb floor, his gaze fixed on nothing and everything.

To the Kalosi, he was a revelation. A savior. A curse.

The Cult of the Veilborn rose in his name. To them, he was the last prophet, the final seer who would guide them in their twilight years. But to others, he was a harbinger, a being not of their world, not of flesh, but of the spaces between reality.

As he grew, he wandered the great underground halls of Kalos Tertium, his presence ever untouched by gravity. He spoke rarely, but when he did, his words carried weight, glimpses of futures yet to pass, of truths that seared the minds of those too weak to grasp them. His psychic might blossomed like a storm, and in time, he became not just a ruler, but a dreamer-king, one who held the memories of an entire world within his mind.

But even he could not stop the inevitable.

The light of Kalos Tertium’s star dimmed further with every cycle. The days grew colder. The winds howled longer. And Ashar-Zul, for all his power, saw the fate of his world written in the stars.

When the Emperor came, it was not in fire and conquest, but in solemn recognition. The Master of Mankind descended upon Kalos Tertium and found his lost son seated in a vast, dark chamber of polished stone, surrounded by dying scholars and empty libraries. Ashar-Zul did not rise to meet him. He did not kneel. He merely lifted his gaze, his silver third eye reflecting the light of the Emperor’s golden form.

“I have seen you in my dreams,” he said.

And so, the lost son was found. But though Ashar-Zul would leave Kalos Tertium behind, he would always carry its shadow in his heart, the knowledge that all things—no matter how great—must one day fade into the void.

Fifth Legion Voidborn Seers CS [+]

Voidborn Seers

Number

Legion V

Domains

Kalos System (standing Vigil) With 20 systems around the edge of Van Grothe's Rapidity that they use as Initiate worlds to gain Aspirants

Legion Appearance

The Seers wear the colors of distant stars, and Spectral Mist, a Mist Grey on Pale White. All brothers wear ornamentation in the form of fetishes and totems and small reliquaries. There is no real standardization for those. A handmade ankh here or an Imperial Eagle sigil stamped with Ceramite there. Higher Ranked brothers are often denoted by crests on their helmets or imitation Crowns of Thorns above their heads.

Combat Doctrine

Long Range Combat, Massed Strikes, and Psyker Ability Assaults

Legion Organization

Somewhere between 40 to 45 thousand Marines. Split up into "Covens" Brothers who share similar Psyker Abilities and values. The Coven of Putrescence would be a Biomancy coven specializing in unleashing plagues and illness. While a Coven of Searing could be using Pyromancy or Psyker Lightning to scour the battle field.

Legion Special Units

Masters of Psyking - One of the Brothers who is as close to Mastering a Psyker Art as they can without undergoing some Warp Change. They can rain Fire on the battlefield, or unleash great fists of Force like an Ethereal Pugilist, just to name a few examples.

The Heavy Brethren - Every Coven has a few brothers who will carry heavy weapons, over all others, to use in their Long Range fighting style. Volkite weapons, Plasma Cannons, Las-Cannons, Multi-Meltas. Providing a wide range of heavy hitting options. They are tasked with Anti-Armor and First/Alpha Strike attacks.

Psi-Assault Cadre - A Voidborn Seer classic. The Covens direct their best and strongest Psykers and Sorcerers to unleash a Mighty warp strike on the adversary. They often attack right alongside the Heavy Brethren, to cause as much damage right up front as they can.

Legion Equipment

Standard Bolters and Chainswords. Though a Large amount of Heavy weaponry (Plasma cannons,Las-cannons, Multi Meltas and Volkite weapons) can be found in the legion. About 90% of the Legion has a Force Stave, or a Force weapon of some kind to act as a Focus and for the rare moment when they must engage in hand to hand.

Legion Vehicles

Land Raider, Kratos, Malcador and Baneblade style tanks. Thunderhawk style drop ships. Basilisk and Medusa artillary guns.

Legion Fleet

A great deal of Battle Barges and Oberon Class Battleships, backed up by Avenger Battlecruisers and Dauntless Class Light Cruisers. Being a Space Based Legion, the Ships of the Voidborn are all equipped to house and move the entire Legion, as well as act as support and attack vessels.

Legion Relics

The Sigil of Dark Sight - Found during their very first united Pasification as the Voidborn, the Sigil is a great metallic sigil of an Eye, with 6 radial blaze markings coming off it, three above and three below. When pressed over an eye the Sigil allows the user to see and observe any location they ask. At the cost of the use of their eye for the same duration they used the Sigil to view their target. Ashar-Zul keeps it locked away in a view cabinet on the Legions Flagship, the Seer's Spear.

Warders Aegis - A silver-blue colored 7 foot long length of linen like material. Oily to the touch, satin-like in texture. The Aegis has the ability to near completely nullify the Warp connection of any person who wears it about their neck. Ashar will occasionally lend it out to a Legionarie of the Seers

Background

Originally known, before they met their Primarch, as the Far Sighted Host, they quickly changed their name upon Ashar-Zuls arrival.

A brotherhood of Psykers and Sorcerers bound by their mastery of the Warp and their unwavering devotion to their Primarch, Ashar-Zul. Cloaked in grey and white, the colors of spectral mist and distant stars, they stride the battlefield as harbingers of destruction, wielding arcane energies as readily as bolters and plasma weaponry.

Born from a deep connection to the immaterial, the Voidborn Seers fight at range, overwhelming their foes with barrages of psychic force, bolts of energy, and mind-warping illusions. Where conventional Space Marine legions rely on steel and ceramite, the Voidborn Seers temper their warfare with visions of the future, foreseeing enemy movements before they happen and striking with calculated precision.

To those outside their ranks, they are enigmatic and unsettling, their presence accompanied by whispers from the ether and the distant echoes of things unseen. Within their warships and fortress-monasteries, great librariums and ritual chambers hum with raw psychic power, where battle-brothers train endlessly to refine their gifts and pierce the veil of time and space.

The Voidborn Seers are feared and revered in equal measure, their name whispered in hushed tones across the stars. They are the watchers in the dark, the seekers of hidden truths, and the bringers of devastation to those who stand against them.

The Voidborn Seers prize knowledge, wisdom and the pursuit thereof. And will sometimes put aside full assaults and pacification's to pursue even a small iota of potential arcane or fascinating knowledge.

@Theyra