THE CHAOS COMPENDIUM - The First Book of Abominations "The strong will always enslave the weak.

Where the strong make their own fate, the weak bow their heads and succumb. There are few who are strong and many are their enemies, and the greatest of these enemies is the False Emperor of Mankind. Destroy the followers of the False Emperor and revel in their cries for mercy - their weakness can only be erdicated by their sacrifice to the gods of Chaos" - First Book of Abominations

THE HORUS HERESY

The day shall not save them. And we own the night. Warmaster Horus The Corruption of Warmaster Horus Imperial entanglements with Chaos have a long and bloody history, dating back almost to the First Founding of the Legiones Astartes. The most serious incident was the so-called Horus Heresy of the 31st Millennium, now commonly assumed to be a conventional revolt. Only the Emperor and the Cyber-libraries of the Ordo Malleus have an accurate recollection of the Heresy. General Horus was regarded as the finest military commander that the Imperium had produced. His abilities were faultless, and eventually the Emperor granted him the title of Imperial Warmaster. This was a high honour, even in the early years of the Imperium, when brave deeds were commonplace. Before Horus could travel to Terra to receive his reward he fell ill on the feral world of Davin. This was his undoing. During his convalescence on Davin he was inducted into a secret warriors lodge, which proved to be little more than a coven. A change of character became evident in the Warmaster - he had been possessed by a Daemon. Horus membership of the secret lodge was not unusual; Imperial soldiers were often encouraged to join warrior societies of this type. Recruiting was felt to be easier on worlds where warriors from the stars had become brothers'. -------------------------------On the feral world of Davin, the adjutant came smartly to attention before the vast wooden desk. "The local representatives are outside, my lord Warmaster." The Warmaster nodded once, without looking up from the stack of reports. "Thank you, Bejand. Make them comfortable and tell them I shall join them directly." Bejand cleared his throat nervously. "Permission to speak freely... my lord?" This time, the Warmaster looked up. The adjutant tried to hold his ice-blue gaze, and failed. "I know, Bejand," said the Warmaster. "You're not happy about this warrior-lodge initiation." "So soon after your illness, my lord..." "From which I am fully recovered. I had the Apothecaria of five Space Marine chapters fighting for the honour of healing me. I've been back to full duties for a week now, with no ill effects. Your concern is touching, but unnecessary." Bejand shuffled uncomfortably. "But, my lord, we don't know what's involved..." "I have a reasonable idea. A little pain, to be endured without crying out; duels with a range of primitive weapons; trials of strength and speed; a few primitive rituals - little difference from

mystic warrior lodges in any other feral-world culture. You know Imperial policy; establish ties that can be exploited in later recruitment." He paused. "This really is bothering you, isn't it?" The adjutant tried to meet his gaze, and failed again. "Listen, Bejand. You are an outstanding staff officer, and I value your loyalty and concern. But why does one warrior-lodge initiation on one feral world disturb you so? I've gone through more than twenty of these rituals in the past. I've been a Space Marine and a commander of Marines for more than a century. You need have no fears for me." "My lord, I..." The Warmaster rose abruptly. "Enough." His voice was softer, more dangerous. "I am Horus, General and Warmaster. The first soldier of the Imperium, subordinate only to the Emperor himself. Shall it be said that Horus ran away from a hutful of savages?" Bejand struggled for words. "My lord... I have had...dreams..." His distress was genuine. Horus laid a hand on his shoulder. "Control yourself." he said gently. "You are excused for the rest of the day. Go to the Apothacarion for a psychological update. And then, perhaps, to the Chapel. A few hours' meditation will do you good. Unless you prefer to report these dreams and submit yourself to the Inquisition for psychic potential testing?" Bejand swallowed hard. "No, my lord." "Well, then." Horus patted his shoulder gently. "Go now, and we'll say no more. Meanwhile, I must meet the elders of the Knife of Stone." And in the Warp, something smiled

Overview of the Horus Heresy

Warmaster Horus was recalled to duty in preparation for a new Imperial Crusade. It is clear that the Warmaster introduced a system of warrior lodges into the five Legiones Astartes Chapters under his direct command. The Chapters were entirely corrupted as the lodges revealed their true nature and showed themselves to be nothing less than Chaos covens. The infection rapidly spread to the Orders of Adeptus Mechanicus attached to Horus command. From there the rot spread further into the Imperial forces. More than half of the Adeptus Mechanicus, including many units of Collegia Titanica and the Legio Cybernetica wholeheartedly supported Horus and his vision of a new Imperium of Chaos. This wholesale treachery went undetected by the Inquisition. Before Horus could move, the Imperial Commander of Isstvan III declared the entire Isstvan system to be an independent principality. The Emperor and Administratum, ignorant of the change in Horus, his subordinate chapters and the parts of the Adeptus Mechanicus, ordered the Warmaster to secure the system. Horus took five Space Marine Chapters to crush the rebellion: the World Eaters, Emperors Children, Death Guard, Thousand Sons and his own Chapter, the Sons of Horus. He introduced the warrior-lodges to the Chapters, and the rot spread throughout his command. The Daemon-Horus planned to strike at the Imperium itself, and establish his rule throughout the galaxy. But first, Isstvan had to be dealt with. Horus chose a bioweapon bombardment on Isstvan III, and the planet became a tomb in seconds. The psychic death scream of the 12 billion who died during the Scouring of Isstvan is reputed to have been louder than the Astronomican. During the bombardment, loyal Adeptus Astartes officers and troops managed to seize control of the frigate Eisenstein. They had discovered the rot that had been spread through the Warmasters Chapters and the Adeptus Mechanicus. As Horus completed his withdrawal to Isstvan V the loyalists fled into warp space, carrying a warning to the rest of the Imperium. The seizure of the Eisenstein is regarded as the start of the First Inter-Legionary War. "You realise that you are preaching mutiny? Brother-Captain Tarvitz nodded gravely.

Betray Horus or betray the Emperor. What choice is there? The Space Marine officers looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. Tarvitz leaned forward across the table, resting on his fists. Fact: in the five Chapters under his command, Horus has installed this system of feral-world warrior lodges that he picked up on Davin. The standard Imperial organisations and command structures laid down in the Codex have been completely disregarded. Fact: the bulk of Marines in our five Legions have repudiated their Marines oath and sworn loyalty to the feral world deities. Further, they have sworn loyalty to Horus personally. Heresy and blasphemy. Fact: the Istvaan campaign has been conducted without even the pretence of orders from Terra: While I do not presume to speak for the Emperor, I cannot believe that the use of a virus bomb on Istvaan III was justifiable. A single Company from a single Legion dropped on the rebel headquarters would have answered the case. I say the Emperor must know what is happening here. Who is with me? Varren? What say the World Eaters? A white/blue-uniformed officer stood. There are fifteen men I can trust: They are yours. Garro? A Captain of the Death Guards looked up. A dozen. I wish it were more. Ten from the Sons of Horus. Twenty from the Thousand Sons. Be sure they are all trustworthy. If you have the slightest doubt, do not commit them. Of my own Emperors Children, there are ten I am sure of, including myself. There was a pause as the paucity of their force sunk in. Seventy Marines, said Brother-Captain of the World Eaters, The sum of our five Legion numbers - a good omen, perhaps? A couple of the others smiled, and the tension of the moment was broken. Seventy Marines. Repeated Tarvitz. Enough for any task, I think. So to work. Varren, your men will seize control of the frigate Eisenstein in three hours from now. It is on the of the fleet, and should be clear for the jump to Warp Space. Varren nodded. The Eisenstein has been having manoeuvre-drive trouble. He said, with exaggerated innocence. Shes been falling behind the fleet all day. Tarvitz grinned. Good. The rest of us will arrange for our ships to lag behind with her in the case of further trouble with the drives. Three hours from now, we will all assemble full crew for an emergency briefing. Meanwhile, our trusted men take control of the systems of all five ships. Clear all remaining ships from around the Eisenstein and keep her covered until she makes the jump to warp space. Then, cause as much damage as you can to the rest of the fleet. History will vindicate us. He turned to Varren. Your World Eaters are our only hope, he said, Do not fail. Varrens eyes became serious. We cannot fail, he said There is too much at stake. Your deaths will be avenged. The Imperium split almost evenly. The corruption of Horus warrior-cult had spread from his command into several other units. Many more were attracted by his military reputation. Seven Space Marine Chapters - fully one-third of the Legiones Astartes - were sent against Horus. Four of these - the Word Bearers, Night Lords, Iron Warriors and Alpha Legion - joined the Rebels; the other have been purged from Imperial Records. The Emperor now became aware of the danger, and the Inquisition began a purge of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Fighting broke out immediately as the Mechanicus split into loyalists and rebels. The Legio Cybernetica and Collegia Titanica bases on Mars were immediately besieged by loyalist troops. Out of all the Titan Legions of the Divisio Miitaris only those on Terra remained loyal. The rest declared for Horus. With the wholesale treachery of the Division Miitaris, the loyalist faction within the Collegia Titanica was forced to husband its battlefield resources. Fortunately, many of the weapon shops and supply depots of the Collegia had remained loyal. The priesthood were in

control of the Collegia depots, and their presence ensured that these vital resources remained in the hands of the Imperium. The rebels were presented with an immediate supply problem; damaged and destroyed Titans could not be repaired with the limited spares stockpiles held by individual Orders. Savage battles broke out between Loyalist and rebel Titan Orders. Faced with extinction through lack of spares if they delayed or acted defensively, the rebels attacked. The Collegia histories list many construction adepts who performed the dedication rites on a new Titan, and then mounted their charge and took it straight into battle. In some cases the libations were still wet when it reached combat. Only able to match such fanaticism with their sheer weight of numbers, the rebels were often forced into a position of stalemate. However, despite the valiant defence of these loyal remnants of the Collegia Titanica, enough supplies were captured to allow the rebels to make good use of their Titans during the final assault upon Earth. Across the Imperium rebel units attacked loyalists and vice versa. Old feuds were revived in many systems, giving additional excuses for battle. The rule of the Imperium dissolved into planetary baffles. Many units of the Imperial Guard declared for the Warmaster. The Imperial Fleet dithered and managed only to drive rebel ships from the Imperial home system, In the process they took heavy casualties and retired to the Luna bases, The Emperor took stock of the situation, and ordered seven entire Marine Chapters, a third of the Legiones Astartes, to destroy Horus and his rebels, Only with the death of the Warmaster, the figurehead and inspiration of rebellion, would the revolt come to an end. The crusade against Horus, although of the utmost urgency, took more than 180 days to plan and launch. Horus used the time well, establishing his claim as a New Emperor with many of the rebels, and spreading the warship of Chaos further a field. The Warmaster had established a temporary headquarters on Isstvan V. The loyalist Chapters struck in quick succession, and the battles of the Purification of Isstvan were bloody in the extreme. The first assaults by loyalist Chapters were mauled during their landings, and then destroyed in detail. Three complete Chapters took part in the initial landings on Isstvan; only five Marines, bearing the gene-seed of their departed brothers, eventually managed to escape to carry the news of the disaster to the Emperor. Their own loyalist follow-up waves, rather than attacking the rebels, fell upon their erstwhile allies. Horus had, apparently, managed to corrupt four of the seven Chapters sent against him. With nine rebel Chapters and the bulk of the Adeptus Mechanicus behind him, and three loyal Chapters destroyed, Horus assaulted Earth. Throughout the Imperium rebel and loyalist units were fighting each other to a virtual standstill, although the tide of battle was turning, ever so slowly, in the Emperors favour. Possessed as he was, the Warmaster had lost none of his strategic bluntness: crush the heart, and the Imperium could be remoulded in his own warped image. The Imperial Fleet was bypassed, and its Luna bases destroyed. Within 30 standard days the Warmaster had reduced the system defences, invested Earth, and thrown a ring of troops about the Imperial Palace. The forces under Horus command had ceased to be loyal Imperial Marines. They had become the Traitor Legions. The Adeptus Custodes, the Imperial Fist and White scar Chapters, and loyalists of the Collegia Titanica were all that remained on Earth. Even their suicidal bravery and the leadership of the Emperor were not enough to prevent the battle turning into a siege. The rebel Traitor Legions were aided by the machines of the Adeptus Mechanicus and, outnumbered by these, even the bravest loyalists could do little. By the 55th day the Traitor Legions and the rebel Adeptus Mechanicus Legions had reached the walls of the Inner Palace. The situation grew more desperate by the hour and, when the Outer Palace was abandoned to the Traitor Legions and their allies, the Emperor acted. He disconnected himself from the Astronomican, a signal to the remains of the Imperial Fleet that the end, one way or another, was approaching. The Emperor and an elite company of Custodes Adeptus soldiery and Imperial Fist Marines were then teleported into Horns command bunker. In the fierce fighting that followed Horus was killed (although his body was never found), and the Emperor seriously wounded. With the death of the Warmaster the rebels paused in their assaults, then fell back to their transports and

fled into space. The Imperial Fleet, which had been powerless to intervene while the rebels were within the Palace, gave chase. The Emperor returned to the Palace, where he was placed within a life-bubble; his wounds would have beer fatal for an ordinary man. Under his watchful eyes the construction of the Golden Throne, which sustains him to this day, began. His future assured, the Emperor pronounced judgement on Horus and his Legions. They had broken faith with the Emperor and trafficked with Daemons. They were declared to be the Traitor Legions, rebels against the Emperor and Mankind. The Fleet was ordered to drive them into the Eye of Terror, a system of hell-worlds wrapped in a dust nebula and awash with warp storms. Here the Traitor Legions would be confined for all eternity; all records and memories of the lapsed Marine Chapters would be expunged from Imperial Archives Their tied servants and support troops were to be removed from the Isstvan and Davin systems, and sent into the Eye aboard almost derelict hulks. It would be as if the Traitor Legions had never existed. In this decision the Emperor tempered his vengeance with reality - the Imperium had been so weakened by the struggle that no other punishment was possible. As news of the Warmasters defeat spread though the Imperium widespread fighting was renewed. The loyalists were revitalized by the news, and fell on the rebels. Many Guard and Fleet detachments had withheld their support from both sides. Such indecision was punished by the rebels and loyalists alike. The loyalists bled such formations white in attacks against rebel strongholds. The rebels turned on all within reach in a final despairing orgy of destruction. The fighting continued another seven years before the last rebel formations were destroyed or exiled. Those who could flee did so, heading for the Eye of Terror. Many had declared for the Warmaster without understanding that Daemon worship had been the rebellions cause. They rapidly fell victim to the cultists of the original Traitor Legions, who, it is said, grew bored of a diet of human flesh. The destroyed Chapters were slowly re-established using what gene-seed had been saved, Many systems, including Davin and Isstvan, were cleansed and placed under the protection of the Inquisition. The unit designations of the Traitor Legions were placed on the inactive list and assigned to new Marine Chapters raised during later Foundings. The Emperors body had breathed its last, and he entered the Golden Throne. The Traitor Legions and their dead Warmaster vanished into the Eye of Terror. The First Inter-Legionary War - the Horus Heresy - lasted less than a decade, but it nearly destroyed the Imperium. With Horus dead, the Rebels were thrown back from Terra. Soon the whole Sol system was recovered. But across the galaxy, the battles continue - the Rebels have been denied a swift victory, and the fate of Humanity still hangs in the balance. Throughout the Imperium there is war, the most dreadful war that Mankind has ever known. For the first time, Space Marines fight their fellow Marines - continents burn and planets are laid bare as the ultimate warriors meet in battle to decide the fate of all Mankind.

The Horus Heresy Campaign

Expansion & Conquest The birth of mankind's Imperium began with the death of the Eldar race. The innate psychic powers of the Eldar brought about their own destruction by the forces of Chaos. Their psychic death scream was echoed in the warp by the birth of a new and terrible god of Chaos. This emergent entity was Slaanesh, the prince of pain and pleasure, bane of the Eldar. The psychic shock of Slaanesh's birth had two immediate effects. The catharsis effectively blew away the warp storms created by the millennia long build-up to Slaanesh's creation, thus ending Earth's long isolation. However, the unleashed energies were so great that they could not be wholly contained within the warp. Where the populations of Eldar were greatest, the warp literally spilled through their minds and mixed with material space. This created the scattered zones of warp overlap in the material universe, the largest and most significant of which is the Eye of Terror.

The Emperor of Mankind had long foreseen the creation of Slaanesh and had prepared for that fateful day. By the time that the warp storms were ended by the birth of Slaanesh, the Space Marines and other Imperial forces were ready to begin their reconquest of the galaxy. The forces of Chaos were already strong, and many human worlds had been taken over by Chaos Cultists or aliens. It was a long hard struggle, but with every victory the Imperium grew stronger as new warriors joined the Great Crusade. Led by the Emperor himself and his mighty Primarchs the Great Crusade of mankind swept through the galaxy like a firestorm. Untold billions of humans on thousands of worlds were liberated by the triumphant Space Marine Legions. The dark and sinister hold of the gods of Chaos was shattered, alien domination was overthrown and the Imperium was forged in a heroic age of conquest and rediscovery. Humanity rose to the task of rebuilding its ancient heritage, and everywhere the alien oppressor was defeated and driven out. Chaos retreated to its own realms, to the zones of warp-real space overlap such as the Eye of Terror. Pride and Betrayal But the forces of Chaos were not quite so easily beaten. They whispered to the Primarchs from the warp, disturbing their dreams with promises of power, appealing to their pride, their martial prowess, and their courage. No single Primarch was wholly resistant to these unspoken temptations. The character of each was sorely tested, and fully half of them failed that test. So subtle was their temptation that they never even suspected how their own loyalties were changing. For example, Mortation, Primarch of the Death Guard Legion fully believed that he was the herald of a new age of justice, Angron of the World Eaters genuinely thought that he alone could save humanity from destruction. Horus too, the greatest Primarch of all, was convinced of the virtue of the martial ideals for which he fought. By appealing to their virtue and courage, the Primarchs were tempted to lead their Space Marine Legions against the Emperor. Initially, even the Primarchs had little idea that they had fallen to Chaos, but when they rebelled their good intentions gradually fell away as Chaos saturated their souls. The Space Marine Legions that they lead also turned slowly but inevitably to Chaos. The corrupting influence of Chaos soon spread to the Imperial Guard and Adeptus Mechanicus forces, including the Titan Legions and the Legio Cybernetica. From there the rot spread further into the Imperium itself. Over half of the Adeptus Mechanicus alone were ready to join an Empire dedicated to Chaos. The leader of the rebellion was the Warmaster Horus, the greatest and most trusted Primarch of all. He had stood by the Emperor's side throughout the long years of the Great Crusade. They had fought back-to-back at the siege of Reillis when the Emperor saved Horus's life. On the battlefield of Gorro, Horus had repaid the debt by hacking the arm from a frenzied Ork as it struggled to choke the Emperor's life out of him. The Emperor had entrusted Horus with leading the crusades along the Eastern Fringe while he returned to Terra to consolidate the rule of the vast Imperium now under his control. In the Emperor's absence Horus's plans were just coming to fruition when the Imperial Commander of Istvaan III declared the whole of the Istvaan system an independent principality. The Emperor, ignorant of the change in the Warmaster, ordered Horus to pacify the system. Horus chose to do so by virus bombing Istvaan III from orbit. The voracious life-eater virus slew every living thing on Istvaan III in a matter of minutes; twelve billion souls died with a death scream that pulsed louder than the Astronomicon. Whole continents and hive cities were charred to ash as the mass of oxygen released by the instant rotting of all organic material on the planet burned in the atmosphere and covered the world in a gigantic firestorm which raged for days. Before the last fires were out Horus despatched the Titans of Legio Mortis onto the planet's surface to root out any that had survived in protective shelters or underground bunkers. During the bombardment a handful of Space Marines still loyal to the Emperor seized control of the Frigate Eisenstein. They had discovered the taint of Chaos spreading through Horus's command and as the Warmaster withdrew to Istvaan V to marshal his forces the loyalists fled into warp space to warn the Imperium.

Outright Rebellion Horus's fall came as a great shock to the Emperor. He hesitated, stunned by the extent of the Warmaster's treachery, unable to believe that his friend and general was really gathering forces against him. The Inquisition began a purge of the Adeptus Mechanicus and Imperial Guard but fighting broke out almost immediately as both organisations were shattered into loyalist and rebel factions. On Mars Tech-priests fought with ancient, forbidden weapons as both sides strove to win dominance. The corrupted Imperium tore itself apart as old feuds were revived and ambitious planetary lords seized the opportunity to declare their independence or join with the Warmaster. Many of them did not realise what manner of monster they were allying themselves with, but others embraced Chaos wholeheartedly. Planetary battles raged across the galaxy as rebels attacked loyalists or vice versa. The Imperial fleet dithered and only succeeded in driving the rebel ships from the Imperial home system. In the process they suffered such heavy casualties that they withdrew to their Luna bases. After an almost fatal delay the Emperor finally ordered seven Legions of the Adeptus Astartes to destroy Horus and his rebels. Only with the death of Horus, the figurehead and inspiration of the rebellion, would the revolt come to an end. But organising and mobilising such a crusade to the other side of the galaxy took precious months. Horus used the time well, consolidating his position and establishing his claim as the "New Emperor" within hundreds of systems. Wherever Horus was accepted, the worship of Chaos followed. The assault of the loyalist Legions against Horus's strongholds on Istvaan V were a disaster. The Legions struck with their customary ferocity and cunning but this time they fought brother Space Marines. Both sides possessed troops as fully capable and hardened as the other, every stratagem and ploy was met and countered. In the end strategy was overturned by treachery as the initial wave of three loyalist Legions were first mauled during their landings and then destroyed in detail. Only five Space Marines, bearing the gene-seed of their departed brethren, eventually managed to escape and carry news of the disaster to the Emperor. Somehow Horus had managed to corrupt four of the seven Legions sent against him. After the initial landings the 'loyalist' follow-up waves had attacked their allies instead of the rebels. Horus now controlled nine Space Marine Legions and had destroyed three loyal Legions. Throughout the Imperium loyalists and rebels were fighting each other to a virtual standstill, although the tide of battle was turning, ever so slowly in the Emperor's favour. Horus knew that if he could crush the heart of the Emperor's resistance he could remould the Imperium in his own warped image. He ordered an assault on Earth. Total War The real tragedy of the Horus Heresy was the ruination of the Emperor's finest creations - not only the Primarchs but the Space Marines as well. The rebel forces spread the corruption of Chaos everywhere they went. Throughout the galaxy the forces of Chaos became stronger as humans were seduced by the values represented by the Chaos Powers and even to their worship. The Emperor's great spirit was weakened as the better qualities of humanity were perverted and misdirected by the subtle warping influence of Chaos. Such was the position when the forces of Chaos gathered around Earth. The Luna bases, the bastion of Earth's defences, fell to Horus after a hard fight, and the rebel fleet moved into Earth orbit. After a brief battle the Terran defence lasers were quashed by heavy bombardment from space. The last squadrons of the loyal fighters poured volley after volley into the huge ships but failed to penetrate even their shields. Once their last shots had been fired the pilots steered the fighters directly into the enemy craft. It was a gesture of defiance - no more. Horus's drop ships fell like rain upon the Imperial palace, disgorging company after company of Traitor Marines. The palace spread over many square miles of bastions, walls, corridors, skyscraping towers, vast space ports and the fighting was fierce and determined. The Traitor Marines and rebel Imperial Guard units supported by Chaos Titans and huge daemonic engines gradually forced back the loyal Marines and Emperor's Guards.

The defenders refused to give way, and the attackers were forced to win their way forward step-bystep over the casualties of both sides. In places the dead lay so thickly that corridors were blocked by the press of bodies. Still the loyalists could not prevent the battle becoming a siege, and fighting raged along the walls of the outer palace for over a month. Eventually Titans of the Legio Mortis demolished parts of the towering walls and the Traitor Legions poured through to assault the inner palace. On the white sand of the Tevlarc Plain, the Loyalist forces gathered to smother the flame of the heresy. Wave after wave of Marines crashed against their foes. The result was always the same: a boiling storm of plasma fire and a mountain of bodies. The opposing forces were equal in firepower, skill and fervour. But each was uncomprehending of the others loyalties. A few weeks ago they would called each other brother; now the differences between them made them mortal enemies. The Titans of both sides strode above the battlefield, their banners held taunt by a wind that carried the stench of a thousand deaths. The Warp Runners confronted the Death Heads, pausing in their advance only to level their weapons and fire. The air was split by the swelling boom of auto cannon. A Traitor Titan reeled backwards from the impact, its splintered carapace showering down onto the Marines below. Its brother Titans readied their multi-launchers and prepared for revenge. The Emperor at Bay As the rebel forces slowly closed the drawstring upon the loyalist troops, the Emperor readied himself for the final battle with his bodyguard of Space Marines and Custodes. Two of his Primarchs stood by him: Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists and Sanguinius of the Blood Angels. The last hour of humanity had come and the few gallant defenders prepared themselves for certain death. It was then, when his victory seemed certain, that Horus made his one and only mistake. Horus lowered the defence shields on his orbiting battle barge. At the time it seemed that he wished to use a psychic probe to witness for himself the final moments of the Emperor. It was his undoing, for a soon as the shields fell the Emperor became aware of his presence. The Emperor did not miss this crucial opportunity. Within a matter of seconds the teleport links were keyed to Horus's barge and the Emperor, his immediate entourage and the two loyal Primarchs, Rogal Dorn and Sanguinius, were transported right into the nest of Horus himself. Horus was the greatest of all Champions of Chaos, an Arch-Champion and Captain of the Great Powers - a Chaos Lord of the highest rank. As the Emperor and his band of warriors materialised inside Horus's battle barge they saw for the first time the full extent of the Primarch's treachery. The ship had been transformed into something so horrible that some of the Space Marines were sent instantly mad. Their minds were completely blasted by the sight, they gargled incoherently as they crawled and twisted on the deck. The faces of men and daemons leered at them from the bulkheads, they had not bodies, their flesh melted into the slimy black walls. With a disgusting sucking sound the creatures heaved themselves into the corridors, clawing and grabbing at the members of the boarding party. It took only a few minutes to reach the bridge, though many brave men died in those minutes and hordes of no-longer-human things perished amidst the flames and singing boltguns. There on the bridge the Emperor confronted his old Warmaster, only to discover Horus poised over the broken body of Sanguinius - the Primarch had found Horus first and had died at his hand. The Emperor launched his attack, as much a struggle between two old friends as it was a struggle for the fate of humanity. Both knew that whichever of them won would inherit the rule of the galaxy and become the undisputed Emperor of Mankind. If Horus won then Chaos would reign supreme and mankind would join the Eldar as a dead race. The Golden Throne The fight between Horus and the Emperor was waged both in the material universe and in the

warp, their bodies and their spirits battling for survival. Though Horus dealt him grievous wounds the Emperor fought not only for his life but also of untold billions across the galaxy. It was Horus who faltered first, perhaps because some shred of humanity survived in the Primarch and betrayed him in the end. The Emperor destroyed his friend with the last vestiges of his strength, his body was all but destroyed, and his psychic powers were also dealt a severe blow. With the death of the Warmaster the forces of Chaos on Earth melted away. Some of those not too long in the service of Chaos were suddenly free from its illusions and quickly switched sides, fighting with all the more vigour in their attempts to make amends for their treachery. Others whose corruption was more deeply rooted, seeing that all was lost, retreated to their ships and fled into open space. The Emperor's body was hastily returned to Earth and placed in a life-preserving stasis field. The life support unit known as the Golden Throne was quickly built to encase the Emperor. His powers survived, but his body was shattered. At first he was able to communicate semi-coherently for brief periods; later he lapsed into complete silence. That silence has remained undisturbed now for almost ten thousand years. Bitter Defeat As news of the Warmaster's defeat spread out from ancient Terra loyalists attacked rebels with renewed vigour. Hard on the heels of the news came loyalist reinforcements and the tide of battle turned decisively against the rebels. The battles still raged on long and hard for a full seven years before the last rebel formations were destroyed or exiled. Those rebels that could flee to the Eye of Terror did so. Many had declared for the Warmaster without comprehending that daemon worship was the rebellion's cause. They rapidly fell victim to the Traitor Legions, who, it is said, grew bored of the diet of human flesh. With the future of the Imperium assured the Emperor passed judgement upon the rebels. They had broken faith with him and trafficked with daemons. They had become enemies of humanity and could not be suffered to live in the Imperium of Mankind. All record of the Traitor Legions would be expunged and they were to be driven into the dust nebulae and hell worlds of the Eye of Terror, banished from the material universe and obliterated from history. It would be as if the Traitor Legions had never existed. In this decision the Emperor tempered his vengeance with reality - the Imperium was so weakened by its inner struggle that no other punishment was possible. But the Eye of Terror remains a dreadful canker in the heartwood of the Imperium, an open wound that drips corruption into surrounding systems and serves as a haven for deviants and heretics. Worst of all, the Traitor Legions still lurk in the Eye of Terror, consumed with hatred of the Emperor, the Imperium and all mankind.

The Assault on Earth

Brother Halan ran forward, his bolter jumping as he slammed shell after shell into the Traitors ranks. Intoxicated with pride, he shouted the Litany of Victory at the top of his voice and threw a handful of grenades into a nearby trench. There was a series of muffled cracks and a sheet of earth and shrapnel erupted from the hole. Halan sprinted over and dropped into the ditch, grinning. The muddy floor was covered with the bodies of dead and dying. He picked up a helmet, and the reality of the situation finally hit home. Theyre Marines! On the thirteenth of Secundus, 30,014, the bombardment began. From orbit the Warmasters ships laid down an unrelenting barrage of missiles and deadly energy beams. The aim was to cripple the defences around the Emperor's Palace and make possible a massive invasion of Earth. The lunar bases had already fallen and the defending fleets had been scattered. On Mars, as across the entire vast Imperium, bitter civil war raged. On countless worlds blood-mad warriors clashed. Some had pledged loyalty to the Emperor.

Others had sworn fealty to Warmaster Horus, and, through him, to the dark powers of Chaos. The Emperor's realm was in turmoil and some of the greatest battles in human history were being fought. On the hive-world of Thranx over a million warriors died in a single day on the killing fields of Perdagor. On the blazing deserts of Tallarn, at the Kaan Sailent fifty thousand tanks clashed in the greatest armoured action of all time. During the spacedrop on Vanaheim three hivecities were depopulated by rebel forces as a warning against resistance and still the defenders fought to the last man. Like a cancer the Heresy infected the entire structure of the Imperium. Everywhere brave men gave up their lives to try and excise that cancer. It was on Earth, at the very heart of humanity's realm that the fate of the galaxy was to be decided. In those last days, the sky was black with dust clouds and the earth was split by gigantic fissures. Tectonic plates shifted under the stress of the bombardment. Mountain chains shivered and seas evaporated and became salty deserts. Rains of blood and ash dripped from the dark sky. Everywhere oracles muttered evil portents and men went mad with fear. Hideously twisted ships full of the lost and the damned hung in orbit over the ravaged world. Shielded from the devastation by the cunningly wrought defences of the Adeptus Mechanicus a pitiful few stood ready to repel the invaders. The embattled remnants of the Emperor's army were desperately trying to hold out until reinforcements arrived. The Emperor himself oversaw the defence of his fortress-palace, personally commanding the Adeptus Custodes, his elite guard. He was accompanied by Sanguinius, whitepinioned Primarch of the Blood Angels and his Chapter of Space Marines. In the palace grounds stood the stalwart Adeptus Arbites. The palace was not the only bastion of resistance. There were others; each an awesome fortified city filled with dauntless soldiers. Beneath their Fortress-Monastery, grim-visaged Rogal Dorn led the stern Imperial Fists in final prayers. Within the armoured factory complexes of the Adeptus Mechanicus, techpriests put aside their tools and girded on the fearsome weapons of their order. In the rubble of burned-out habareas Primarch Jhagatai Khan mustered the White Scars, the Chapter of Space Marines he had personally instructed in the art of lightning warfare. Three full Titan legions stood ready to defend their Emperor. As the earth shuddered under the bombardment, tank divisions roared across the tortured landscape to take up their position against the coming invasion. Brave men checked their weapons and offered up last prayers. Defence lasers swivelled to face the turbulent threatening sky. Suddenly, the night was streaked by the plasma contrails of drop-pods. Within the Emperor's halls even the Space Marines shuddered damned brethren. The terrifying prospect of facing those corrupt Primarchs who had sold their souls to Chaos filed every man's mind with indescribable horror and dread. *** The pods touched ground and from them erupted the mightiest champions of Chaos, the renegade Space Marines of the lost Chapters. These were no longer the fine human warriors of legend but twisted creatures, bodies warped by the energies of Chaos, minds twisted by their devotion to the dark powers. If what had happened to the Space Marines was bad then what had happened to their Primarchs was worse. They had been created higher in the Emperor's esteem and had fallen further. None of their former comrades would have recognised them - they had been transformed into creatures both daemonic and exultant. Mighty Angron bellowed orders to his blood-drinking followers, the World Eaters. Brandishing his great runesword he led them against the defenders of Eternity Wall SpacePort. Around his redarmoured followers bolter shots whined. Unflinchingly they advanced, determined to spill blood for the Blood God. At Mortarions soft-spoken command the Death Guard emerged silently from the festering cocoons of their drop-pods and advanced on their terror-stricken foes. The dread runes on Mortarions scythe glittered eerily in the night as he gestured for them to advance.

Magnus the Red glared triumphantly about him with his one watchful eye before ordering the mage-warriors of the Thousand Sons to cast their spells of doom. A hail of deadly bolter shells cut down dozens of the Emperor's Children. Undeterred, the wounded howled with pleasure at the experience and chanted the praises of their Primarch Fulgrim. The Renegade Space Marines surged forward to carve a path through their foes. Perhaps some defenders went mad with fear. Perhaps the corruption of Chaos ran deeper than anyone suspected. Perhaps some were foolish enough to think that they could negotiate with the ultimate enemy. Whatever the reason one last vile treachery was to take place. Many units of the Imperial army that had pledged loyalty to the Emperor turned blasphemer even as the Traitor Space Marines made their drop. It was almost as if it were a pre-arranged signal. In one of the basest acts of betrayal in humanity's history they turned their weapons on their brother warriors and cut them down like dogs. Thus did the Lions Gate SpacePort fall to the rebels. As the heretics chanted and howled their mad prayers, the air shimmered and slavering daemons emerged from the warp to spread terror and dismay. Then indeed did it seem to the defenders that they were living in the last days of mankind. Huge bat-winged Bloodthirsters swept triumphantly across the weeping skies. Clawed Keepers of Secrets danced lasciviously on piles of corpses. Great Unclean Ones chuckled as they lumbered through the ruined streets spreading trails of filth and slime and disease. Enigmatic Lords of Change perched atop the towers and statues and supervised the coming of Chaos to the heart of the world. Mighty ships began the descent from orbit, hoping to overwhelm the defenders by sheer weight of numbers. Unlike the drop-pods these presented fine targets for the weapons of the defenders. And thus did the battle for Earth begin in earnest. Defence lasers blasted many renegade ships from the sky, sending thousands of tons of fused metal death raining down onto the ground below. One giant craft span out of control and crashed into a hab-unit, killing a hundred thousand people. Another was welded to the ground, disgorging its passengers into a lake of bubbling tar and plas-crete. The vessel of the Warped Dogs was vaporised and that Titan Legion's name passed into history. As quickly as they disembarked the Traitors surged forth from the spaceports to besiege the bastions of the defenders. Their first objective was to silence the defence lasers inflicting such casualties on their comrades. The rebels were met by a wave of Imperial defenders, desperate men who knew that they were giving their lives for their home and their Emperor. In the tightly packed streets around the spaceports the fighting was close and deadly. Bolters chattered and missile launchers delivered cargoes of death from building to nearby building. Traitor tanks rumbled through the avenues, turrets swivelling to bring weapons to bear on the hastily improvised barricades of their former comrades. Soon the defenders of Eternity Wall SpacePort had been swept aside by the merciless assault and the hordes of the Warmaster were in total possession of the space field. More and more intricately wrought dropships descended from orbit. They towered over the landing ground like nightmare skyscrapers. The dark runes on their sides glowed evilly in the gloom. Hundred-meter high doors opened in their kilometre long sides. From their red depths Titan ten times the height of a man emerged. They were warped giants; the armour of their carapace fused and moulded into new shapes by the power of Chaos. Within them were men melded to their machines. Some of the hideous Titans had strange potent weapons, others were a bizarre hybrid of the organic and the machine. Metal tentacles lashed, spiked tails whipped back and forth. Engines roared like the voices of angry beasts. Banners fluttering, the Titans of Storm Lords and the Flaming Skulls legions marched forth. At Lions Gate SpacePort the traitors welcomed the towering black war engines of the Khornate host. Minotaurs and trolls and cultists seethed like angry ants around their bases. Reinforced by this fresh wave of troops the hordes of Horus swept on, driving through the exhausted and demoralised Imperial troops to the very walls of the Emperor's palace. Khornate warriors mounted on bestial daemonic Juggers raced towards the marble and steel outer ring. Hordes of horn-headed Tzeentchian disc riders soared on the wind, bolts of mystic power erupting from their clenched fists to rake the defenders. Slaaneshi beast riders swept aside the Imperial

Guard infantry and reached the Saturnine Gate. Round the walls bitter fighting ensued as the Imperials sallied forth, trying to drive the attackers back before the main body of the assaulting troops arrived. Men died in their thousands. From pillbox emplacements in the palace walls Imperial gun crews rained death down on the relentless attackers. Again and again the streets outside the palace were swept clear of heretics. Again and again new foes stepped forward to take their place. Now indeed it seemed the tide of battle had turned against the Emperor. The spaceports were firmly in the grasp of the minions of the Warmaster. Hundreds of thousands of troops poured down from orbit. Goat headed beastmen, gibbering mutants and hideous amorphous Chaos Spawn surged out of the drop ships. Under the banner of the great eye, the sign of Horus, the lackeys of the four Great Powers of Chaos marched united. Mounted on Rhinos, lurking within mighty Behemoths and clinging to the sides of gigantic war engines they made their way en masse to the Emperor's palace. Looking down on the seething sea of foulness the defender's hearts went cold. Mingling with the daemons and the mad-eyed cultists, the trolls and the beastmen they could see heretical Space Marines and traitor Guardsmen. These were people they might have once fought alongside, who had once been as loyal to the Emperor as themselves. They looked upon a dark mirror of their souls. Down there they could see martial honour become berserk madness, human cleverness become sly treachery, hope become foulness and love become abominable lust. The brave men on the walls knew that there was no way out. Here they must stand and fight and die. There would be no mercy from those below. This was a war where there could be no honourable peace. It was destroy or be destroyed. For a moment all was silence, then Angron strode forth. In his brazen voice he demanded that the loyalists surrender. He told them that their cause was hopeless, that they faced a foe that could not be defeated. They were cut off, outnumbered, and defending a ruler too weak to be worthy of their loyalty. In that moment the men on the walls felt their resolve weaken. Looking at the transformed face of the Primarch who had been one of the Emperor's finest warriors, they saw an invincible, relentless foe backed by a numberless horde and all the daemonic might of Chaos. There was a clamour on the walls as Sanguinius and the Blood Angels arrived. Standing on the wall, the angel-winged man glared on Angron with angry contempt. For long moments their gazes locked. Each Primarch seemed to be measuring the other, searching for chinks in the armour, for any sign of weakness and lack of resolve. Who knows what they saw there? Perhaps they communicated telepathically, brother Primarch to brother Primarch. The truth will never be known. Eventually Angron turned and walked back to his lines. He told his troops that there would be no surrender; they should kill everyone they found within the palace. No stone should be left upon stone. With a roar the horde advanced towards the walls. Great Lords of Battle lurched forward on iron wheels, crushing anything in their way, unloading racks of missiles and turning the area on the top of the walls into blazing storms of death. Doom burners sent tongues of superheated metal licking out at the emplacements. Molten brass filtered through the windows and scalded those inside. Multi-tracked Cauldrons of Blood squirted jets of obscene daemonic ichor onto the defenders. Enormous flesh hounds of Khorne loped forward in their wake. Titans armed with specially constructed siege weapons lumbered into position. Battle cruisers dropped megatons of explosive death onto the defenders. Every loyal warrior knew that he was already dead; that there was no way he could survive the coming of the daemonic army. The soldiers fought with the desperate ferocity of hopeless men, firing until their weapons were empty, snatching up the bolters of the fallen, and facing monsters with the butts of their guns when all ammunition was exhausted. Three times the horde managed to scale the walls, and three times it was driven off by the valiant efforts of Sanguinius and the Blood Angels. Wearily the Primarch marshalled the defenders, rallying the broken, speaking words of comfort to the mortally wounded, fighting with cold, implacable fury when he was called upon to do so. Slowly though, despite his efforts, the Chaos forces managed to erode the defence. They

seemed numberless as the grains of sand on a seashore and Horus spent their lives carelessly. Outside the walls Imperial forces frantically raced from their bastions to try and relieve the palace. Titan legions boldly cut their way towards the centre of the rebel army. The White scars harried its flanks. No attempt to break the rebel line succeeded. Breaking through that blood-mad horde was a near impossible task. All four of the daemonic Primarchs inspired their followers to feats of fiendish bravery. For every Chaos warrior who died it seemed two more stood ready to take his place. In orbit the Warmaster watched approvingly. If the palace fell and the Emperor died loyalist legions across the galaxy would lose heart and the war would be over. Without the psychic shield of the Emperor's power, humanity would swiftly fall prey to Chaos. Horus would stand triumphant amid the rubble of humanity's greatest empire. He would become a new and angry god. If he did not win soon reinforcements would filter in from the corners of the Imperium, and his attack would falter. For the Warmaster this was the desperate ultimate gamble. Everything was staked on this attack. It had to succeed, and at that moment it looked as if it might. Day by day the siege wore on, casualties rose from the thousands to tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands. Bodies had to be bulldozed from the access ways to the Saturnine Gate by war machines. Chaos Titans blazed at the walls, specially constructed missiles ripping great chunks from the masonry. The Titans of the Fire Wasps answered their fire with volcano cannons. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as the corpses of the dead were incinerated in funeral pyres a hundred-foot high. Obscene ash parched the throats of the defenders. The World Eaters built a pyramid of scorched skulls sixty foot high in Temple Square. By night the chants of degenerate cultists echoed through the streets and daemons flitted among the ruins of Earth. Slowly, foot by torturous foot, the defenders were forced back. The great walls of the palace were riddled with hundreds of kilometres of bulkheads and corridor. Within this maze bitter hand to hand fighting ensued till entire sections of passage were filled with bloated corpses. Feeling progress was too slow, Horus ordered the Titans of the Death's Head Legion to demolish entire sections of the wall. Despite taking tremendous casualties the great Warlord Titans broke through, and the forces of the Warmaster flooded into the palace grounds. While all this was taking place Jhagati Khan had implemented a change of plan. Rather than throwing away his forces against the near invincible bulk of the main Chaos army he launched a lightning raid against Lions Gate SpacePort. This night attack was spearheaded by the shavenheaded warriors of the White scars, who led the remnants of the 1st Tank Division and elements of the surviving Guard armies against the surprised heretics. Khan threw a defensive perimeter around the spaceport and held it against all counter-attacks. The flow of men and materials towards the palace was halved at a stroke. This success gave heart to the defenders. They swiftly attempted to seize Eternity Wall SpacePort but here the forces of the Warmaster were better prepared. The attackers were ambushed and driven back by traitors. Horus knew it was imperative to keep his beachhead secure. The final push on the inner palace had begun. The battle raged across the grounds of the Inner Gardens. What had once been a vast parkland was swiftly turned into a killing ground. Men used statues for cover and monuments for bunkers. Blood swirled in the waters of the ornamental lakes. Groves of ancient redwoods burned. The smell of the burning mingled with the acrid odours of weapons and engines and death. Red-eyed, snatching sleep when they could, both sides fought a total war. Trenches were hurriedly excavated in the meadows. Snipers killed men as they tried to sip brackish water from the ruined fountains. Both sides fought with unimaginable naked ferocity. Both sides sensed the end was near. Eventually Sanguinius was forced to retreat to within the palace itself, personally holding the Ultimate Gate against the oncoming horde while the last of his wounded men was carried through. Just as the giant ceramist gate was about to close a Bloodthirster of Khorne leapt upon him. The daemon's huge talons closed around his throat. Sanguinius took to the air. Angel and daemon wrestled over the warring armies. Both sides halted for a moment to watch the titanic struggle. It was a conflict such as has been rarely seen; two beings of awesome power wrestled.

Sanguinius was weary and near the end of his strength and the daemon gouged great wounds in his flesh. The heretical throng roared its approval as the Primarch was cast to the ground, the impact splintering the granite. For a moment the Primarch lay still and a groan rose from the Blood Angels, the daemon stood over him and howled in exultation. Then slowly and painfully the Blood Angel rose and seized the creature, raised it high and broke its back across his knee. Then with a halo of power playing round his head he tossed its broken carcass back amid its followers. They beat their chests and rent their hair and wailed in dismay as the Ultimate Gate shut. The great Sky Fortress bore Rogal Dorn and the remnants of the Imperial Fists to the inner palace. The loyal old general was determined to stand and die with his Emperor in the final hour. The Sky Fortress raced away from the palace in a desperate attempt to reach Jhagatai Khan and return him to the palace. It was destroyed by a blaze of fire from the Death's Heads Titan Legions. Even in death its commander wrought havoc on the enemy, bringing the crippled vehicle down into the centre of the Chaos Horde. It seemed as if a new sun was born on Earth as the plasma reactor exploded, blasting out a crater three kilometres across. Those within the palace knew they were cut off; now they were truly alone. Only a miracle could save them. Now the final siege began. Through great breaches in the outer walls more and more armaments and reinforcements were brought to bear. The Warmaster himself prepared to teleport down to the surface and supervise the destruction of his former lord. Then a daemon from the Warp whispered to him the words that he had dreaded. Commander? Rogal Dorn looked up from the holo. Four of the Adeptus Custodes stood before him, stiff with formality despite their wounds. What is it? His voice betrayed his exhaustion. The battle had raged for nearly five days. Horus had fallen upon the palace like a wolf on a hen-house. The south and west sides were holding, but at a cost. We are commanded to escort you to the Emperor. At once, if you will. Dorn nodded. Yonnad! Take over here! Expect a second thrust at the Lion Gate - hold your reserve for it. Anything else will probably be a feint. Keep fencing on the Eternity Wall - dont give them a chance to settle in. Hold things down till I get back! My lord. Lieutenant Commander Yonnad took over the holo. Dorn clipped bolt pistol and power sword to his armour, donned his helmet and followed the Custodes out of the command chamber. Outside, the sky flashed bright with fire and plasma. The rebels were getting closer - there was no doubt of it. Dorn found himself hoping that the command chamber would still be there when he got back. He climbed into the back of the Custodes grav-pod, and it shot across the Square of Purity into one of the great openings in the wall of the Inner Palace. After several minutes, the tunnel suddenly opened out into a vast chamber - ther were past the Dragon Wall and its defensive systems, and within the Inner Palace proper. Hundreds of feet overhead, the roof continued to display its holographic blue sky, and the sounds of birdsong floated over the internal comnet. The grav-pod began to slow as it approached the huge building complex at the centre of the chamber. The Hall of Splendour. The bronze gates - large enough to admit a Titan - swung open. Beyond them, more Custodes stood at the ready. Commander? The voice was discreet, asking without asking. The Custodes were wellpractised in protocol. Dorn nodded, and unclipped his weapons. He handed his gauntlets to one of the attendants. Without even a digital laser, he felt strangely naked, but he understood. Horus had been the Emperors closest friend - after his treachery, no-one could be trusted. And in any case, they couldnt take away his training, his hands and feet. Dorn grunted at the thought. At the far end of the chamber, the silver gates opened. The Custodes flanked him, and Dorn marched into the presence of the Emperor.

No formalities, Rogal. The quiet, clear voice stopped him in mid-genuflection. Time is short, and we have known one another too long. Dorn straightened up. The Imperial Fists fight well, Rogal. But we both know the defence will not last for ever. Even so, you and the White Scars have bought precious time, and Ive not wasted it. While you fight with bolter, laser and plasma, I have fought in my own way. And I have found the shortest road to victory, as Russ would say. In less than one minute, your man Yonnad will be ordered to teleport all the assault troops from your reserve to a location I gave him. My Custodes will teleport at the same time. I want you at my side, Rogal. Take up your weapons. We are going to face Horus in his own command chamber. A loyalist fleet under Leman Russ and Lionel Johnson bearing a fresh army of Space Wolves and Dark Angels was only hours away. It would take days to break humanity's last citadel, even with Horus leading his troops. It seemed that time had run out for the Warmaster, that his gamble had failed. Horus was first among the fallen, with the power of a god and the cunning of a daemon. He resolved to try one final desperate gambit. he could still kill the Emperor. He ordered all comm-net communications blocked so that the defenders would get no word from their rescuers and then he used his psychic powers to the full to prevent the Emperor becoming aware of this. Finally he dropped the shields of his command ship. It was an invitation and a personal challenge that he knew the Emperor could not resist. He was being offered a chance finally to smite the foe that had harried him for so long. The Emperor rose to the challenge, and he and his surviving Primarchs teleported aboard the Warmasters battle barge. Horus used his powers to separate the Emperor from his loyal followers. The loyalists were transported to different spots within his hideously altered ship. Sanguinius he had brought directly to his throne room. In his evil cunning the Warmaster offered the Blood Angel a chance to switch sides, reasoning that the winged Primarch's followers would be useful when the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels arrived. Sanguinius refused. Horus grew wrathful and attacked him. At the peak of his powers the Blood Angel would have been no match for the Warmaster and now, sorely wounded and weary he had no chance at all. Horus strangled him with his bare hands before the throne the Powers of Chaos had gifted him with. The Emperor found Horus shortly after this and what happened next is the subject of legend. The two mightiest beings in the history of mankind clashed. They met blade to blade, power to power, mind to mind and tested sinew and psychic power to the ultimate.

Aboard the Warmaster's Ship

Even through the shields the impact makes the Imperial Palace shake. With a screech of tortured stone an angel topples from its alcove high on the throne room wall and crashes to the marble floor a kilometre below. It shatters into a million pieces. Splinters of stone flash across the hall like shrapnel. From his throne the Emperor watches his warriors mill around in confusion. This hall holds ten thousand men, seasoned veterans, and all are now panicking. He knows they are more frightened by his silence than by the enemy. They look to him for leadership and he can give them none. For the first time in his millennia-long life the Emperor knows despair. The magnitude of his defeat stuns him. The lunar bases have fallen. Most of the Earth is under the Warmaster's heel. Rebel Titans surround the palace and are held at bay only by the desperate efforts of a few loyalists. It is only a matter of time before the palace's defences fail and the last bastions of resistance fall. "Sire, what are your orders?" asks Rogal Dorn, massive dark-haired Primarch of the Imperial Fists. His golden armour has lost its lustre, is dented in a dozen places by bolter shells. The Emperor doesn't answer. He is lost within himself seeking answers to his own questions. He has come at last to the dark place, the time of testing, the era hidden from his precognitive

vision and beyond which he cannot see. The moment he has always dreaded has arrived. Is my time over, he wonders? Is this where it all ends? Is this why I have reached the limits of my prophetic powers. Is this where I die? He feels bewildered. Even now, with the Traitor Warmaster's forces battering at the gate, he finds it difficult to believe that he has been betrayed. Horus was more than a trusted comrade, more like a favoured son. Of all the Primarchs the Emperor relied on him most. Not for a second had the Emperor doubted him, not even when word had come from the Savage Worlds that the Warmaster was gathering forces. He had deluded himself that Horus must have good reason to do so without consulting him. I should have been warned by the failure of my precognition, he thinks. "Sire, what are your orders?" asks Kane, acting Fabricator-General of the Adeptus Mechanicus. He stares at the Emperor, a trick of the light turning the glass slits of his brass mask into accusing eyes. Once more the Emperor does not reply. Kane's presence reminds him that not even the head of the Adeptus is to be trusted. His superior, the former Fabricator-General, has chosen to side with Horus. On Mars civil war rages between factions of Tech-Priests. Ancient, forbidden weapons are being deployed. Viral plagues kill millions. Fusion bombs scar the earth. So much will be lost. He thinks of the slow piecing together of the old science. The Librarium Technologicus is in flame now, ancient core data systems in meltdown. The Great Crusade, as much a quest for knowledge as a war to reclaim the human worlds, is ended. The Warmaster's treachery has seen to that. "Sire, what are your orders?" Asks Sanguinius, angel winged Primarch of the Blood Angels. He gazes at the Emperor with blazing eyes, his face a mask of terrible beauty. The Emperor knows they rely on him for guidance. They still believe in him. They think he can lead them from this trap. They are wrong. Horus is the greatest general the galaxy has ever known. Who should know better than his creator? He is schooled by a century of warfare. There will be no way out, no loopholes, and no flaws in the plan. The Warmaster would have to be mad to leave one. The Emperor looks down on the faces of his followers, sees the trust written there, feels the weight of responsibility it brings. He knows that for their sake he must try, even if it is hopeless. He casts forth his clairvoyant sight, lets his mind drift beyond the ruined gardens of the palace, over fields where colossal Titans battle by the twisted light of the sculpted moon. He sees the whole war spread out beneath him, his pitifully outnumbered legions being mowed down by the traitor hordes. He reaches up to the sky, where he senses the fleet of battle barges that rain orbital doom upon the tortured Earth. Amid those thousand glittering points he finds the Warmaster. Hope flickers within him. The shields of Horus's ship are down. Briefly he wonders why. Is the traitor's confidence so overwhelming? Does he wish to witness the battle himself. Or is it a trap? The Emperor touches the ship and recoils from what he senses within. How could Horus have done this, make a pact with the ultimate abomination? The Emperor comes to a decision. Trap or not, this is the only opportunity he will get. He has no option but to seize it; the position is so desperate. Even as his spirit returns to his body, the ominous thought strikes him that the Warmaster must know this. "What are your orders, Sire?" Sanguinius asks again. The Emperors eyes snap open. His voice is full of authority. "Prepare to teleport. We will take the battle to the enemy." The men smile confidently. They now have a purpose. While he reels off the teleport co-ordinates they move, without question, to obey. A flash of light, a feeling of coldness. They have teleported into the Warmaster's ship. The Emperor takes an instant to reorientate himself and realises that something has gone wrong. He stands in a vast, warped chamber with only a few marines in attendance. The Terminators and the Primarchs are not present. How is this possible he wonders. Could Horus have disrupted the teleportation beam? Is he so powerful?

Insane voices gibber madly inside his skull. There are figures trapped in the stone walls of the vast room. Hands reach out for him, grasp at him with rock-like strength. He shrugs them off easily. His comrades are not so lucky. Bolters chatter and flash as the marines attempt to fight off their daemonic assailants. A man screams as he is drawn into the dark and slimy walls. As he vanishes, ripples spread from his point of disappearance. The Emperor's sword lashes out, severing limbs, freeing trapped marines. He summons his psychic energies. A nimbus flickers around his head as he unleashes his power. A tidal wave of destruction rips through the daemons, leaving his own men unscathed. He scans about him, seeing the Primarchs but the walls of the Warmaster's Battle Barge are resistant to his mind sight. He gestures for the surviving Marines to follow him. They wonder through a ship distorted beyond all recognition by the warping power of Chaos. Great sphincter-doors distend from walls of flesh-like stone. Transparent veins bear rivers of blood along conduits in the floor. Carpets of mucous cover a road of tongues. Winged and distorted things that might once have been human flit through archways of bone and perch on ledges of rib. The marines gasp in horror. He exerts himself to calm them, psychically soothing their fear of this dreadful place. All the while he scans the area looking for the spoor of Horus. He knows now the nature of the pact the Warmaster has made and the dreadful consequences of his victory. They pass pits that gape like glistening gullets in the floor and echo the beats of a distant giant heart. They are showered by waterfalls of stinking yellowish liquid that cascades down cliffs of carved cartilage. Sometimes they hear weapons fire but when they arrive at the source they find nothing. Mists of rainbow vapour drift across their field of vision obscuring corridors of carnivorous stone. Clouds of insects swarm over their faceplates and choke the extractors of their airpipes. They switch over to internal oxygen supply. They are ambushed by scuttling skull-faced things in the armour of marines. They fight hordes of mutated beasts. One by one they die. In the end the Emperor stands alone. Then and only then is he allowed to enter the presence of Horus. The Warmaster bestrides the body of a broken angel. Behind him the tortured Earth fills the view port, a bauble for Horus to seize with one clawed hand. Corpses of massacred marines lie everywhere. Face glowing with internal blood light, Horus speaks. "Poor Sanguinius. I offered him a position of power in the new order. He could have a seat at the right hand of a god. Alas he chose to align himself with the losing side." The Emperor stands transfixed, trying to force frozen words from his tongue. In the end he can only whisper; "Why?" Mad laughter rings out. "Why? You ask me why? Have all those millennia taught you nothing? Weak fool, your timidity prevented you from binding the forces of Chaos. You shied away from the ultimate power. I have bound it to my will and will lead humanity into a new age. I, Horus, Master Of Chaos." The Emperor looks at his former friend and shakes his head. He sees the trap that has ensnared Horus. "No man can master Chaos," he says quietly. "You have deluded yourself. You are the servant not the master." A look of rage transfigures the Warmaster. He stretches out a hand and a bolt of force leaps forth. The Emperor screams as agony wracks his body. "Feel the true nature of my power then tell me I am deluded," roars Horus, in the voice of an angry god. Beads of sweat stand out on the Emperor's forehead, he steels himself against the pain. "You are deluded," he says. Once again Horus gestures and lances of pure poison sear through the Emperor's veins. "I let you come here, old friend, so that you could witness my triumph. Kneel before me and I will spare you. Acknowledge the new master of mankind." Desperately the Emperor summons his power and lashes out. Lightning flicker between the

combatants. The stench of ozone fills the air. The Emperor leaps forward, sword raised. Weapons clash as the battle is joined on every level: physical, spiritual, psychic. Bolts of force flicker as mortal gods clash, balancing the fate of the galaxy on every blow. Runesword and lightning claw ring against each other with a sound like thunder. Energies potent enough to level planets are unleashed. A backhand buffet from Horus knocks the Emperor through a stone bulkhead. The counterstroke tears a supporting column out of the ceiling as the Warmaster ducks. In the warp the Emperor hears the Chaos Powers howl as they feed their pawn more power. The Lord of Humanity stands alone against their massed might and knows that he is losing. Somehow he cannot bring his full force to bear on the Warmaster. Horus shows no such restraint. A lightning claw cuts the Emperor's armour as if it were cloth, sheers through flesh and bone. The Emperor ripostes with a psychic stroke intended to disrupt the Warmaster's nervous system. Horus laughs as he deflects it. His claws take the Emperor across the throat, opening windpipe and jugular. Another blow severs the tendons of his wrist, causing the sword to drop from nerveless fingers. Insane laughter echoes round the chamber. Horus breaks several ribs with an almost playful punch. A surge of energy seers the Emperor's face, melting the flesh till it runs, bursting an eyeball, sets the hair alight. The Emperor stifles a whimper, wonders how he can be losing. Blackness threatens to engulf him. Horus grasps his wrist, splintering bones. Blood pumps from the Emperor's throat. Horus lifts his foe above his head and brings him down across his knee, breaking his spine. For a second the Emperor knows only darkness then a flare of agony brings him back to consciousness as Horus rips his arm from its socket. The Warmaster howls with bestial triumph. Suddenly the battering stops. Through his good eye the Emperor sees a solitary Terminator has entered the room. The marine charges toward the Warmaster, stormbolter blazing. Horus looks at him and laughs. For a moment he stands triumphant, allowing the marine to see what he has done to his Emperor. The Emperor know what is going to happen next, sees the gloating triumph on Horus' face. There is no trace of his friend left there. There is only a daemon driven by insane destructive fury. Horus turns his burning gaze on the Terminator and the marine's flesh flakes away to reveal his skeleton then even that is gone, reduced to dust. The Emperor sees the trap that has been set for him. He has been restraining himself, trying not to hurt one who has been as a son to him. Now he sees that there is no trace of his trusted comrade left. He knows that he must stop this semblance of his former friend and avenge the fallen Terminator. He must strike one deadly blow. He will get no other chance. He gathers every particle of his power, focuses it into a mighty bolt of pure force, more coherent than a laser, more destructive than an exploding sun. He aims it at Horus, a lance of power destined for the madman's heart. Horus senses the upsurge of energy and turns to face the Emperor, a look of horror on his face. The Emperor lets fly. It strikes the Warmaster. Horus screams as destruction rains down on him, twisting and writhing in titanic agony. He strives frantically to counter the Emperor's deathblow but his struggles become ever more feeble as the lethal energies play over him. Driven by all the force of his rage and pain and hatred the Emperor wills Horus's death. He senses the forces of Chaos retreat, disengaging themselves from their pawn. As they do so sanity returns to the Warmaster. The Emperor sees realisation of the atrocities he has committed flicker across Horus' face. Tears glisten there. Horus is free but the Emperor knows he himself is dieing and that the Powers Of Chaos may once again posses the Warmaster and he will not be there to stop them. He cannot take that risk. Horus must die. Yet for a second, looking into his old friends face, he hesitates, unable to do the deed. Then he thinks of the slaughter that still goes on outside, may go on forever. Resolve hardens within him. He forces all mercy and all compassion from his mind, empties it of all knowledge of friendship

and love. His eyes lock with Horus and see understanding there. Then with full cold knowledge of what he is doing the Emperor destroys the Warmaster. Rogal Dorn enters the chamber. Horror fills him as he sees the mutilated form of the Emperor and the shrivelled husk inside the Warmaster's armour. He curses himself for taking so long to fight through the Chaotic hordes. He knows now why their attacks ceased and why the ship is reverting to normal. He rushes to the Emperor's side, detecting the faint pulse of life. Perhaps there is yet hope. Perhaps the ruler of the Imperium may live. Dorn will do his best to ensure it

The Death of Sanguinus

During the dark days of the Horus Heresy the Blood Angels Chapter of Space Marines found itself embattled upon Earth itself. The full force of Chaos was arrayed against them, and as the armies of Horus fought their way toward the centre of the Emperor's palace, all appeared lost. Yet, as the most lowly Adept of the multitudinous offices of the Adeptus Terra knows, in the end the Earth was saved and Horus defeated, though at a terrible cost. The story of the Death Company of the Blood Angels is just one of the many echoes of those great events which still affect the Imperium today. As the forces of Horus closed in around the Emperor the position seemed hopeless. The battle, and with it the fate of humanity, would be resolved within a matter of hours at the most. The outcome seemed no longer in any doubt, and the Emperor and the remnants of the loyal Space Marine Legions prepared for final stand. They were doomed and humanity was condemned to eternal damnation in the hells of Chaos, yet they were determined to prove their defiance to the last. If Chaos must triumph, as it surely would, then it would do so only in the face of the greatest resistance possible. The Blood Angels had fought long and hard since the bombardment began. They were already battle weary, but within them the human spirit burned as vigorously as ever. The winged Primarch Sanguinius seemed to be everywhere at once. Wherever the fighting was thickest he appeared, soaring over the battlefield and swooping down upon the daemonic hordes below. Together with his Space Marines he had defied the might of Angron, the Chaos Primarch of Khorne whose World Eater Chaos Space Marines had devastated a hundred human worlds. Yet the onslaught was too great, and the Blood Angels had been beaten back to the Ultimate Gate in the Emperor's Palace. As the Emperor and his Primarchs gathered for a final stand, Horus made the fatal mistake that cost him victory. To this day no-one can say why Horus chose to drop the defensive shields around his ship, allowing the Emperor to teleport aboard and destroy Horus. Historicii of the Adeptus Terra point to the expected arrival of the Space Wolves and Dark Angels Legions, maintaining that Horus was deliberately throwing down a challenge to the Emperor in an attempt to lure him into a trap. If this is correct, Horus was determined to resolve the conflict before the arrival of the other Space Marine Legions. But it seems unlikely that Horus did not know the relief force was still several days away. Even with these additional Space Marines it is hard to imagine how the Emperor could defeat the inexhaustible hordes of Chaos. The Ecclesiarch Deacis IX wrote, "Perhaps it was some vestige of humanity within the monster that he had become which finally betrayed Horus. His love for the Emperor, once sincere but long since turned hate, may yet have overcome Chaos in the end." Maybe it was so. The veil of history was drawn over those events 10,000 years ago, and such things will never be known for certain. According to all records of those troubled times the Emperor, Sanguinius, and a small force of Space Marines in Terminator Armour boarded the Warmaster's space fortress. The story has become part of the folk-myth of the Imperium, and is told a hundred different ways, but on the following details most versions agree. As they materialised the boarding party found themselves divided, and Sanguinius was positioned closest of all to Horus himself. It is said that the Warmaster offered Sanguinius a place beside him, a Princedom in Hell, and everlasting life as a minion of the Chaos Gods. For the last time in his life

Sanguinius renounced Chaos and prepared for battle. Horus was once the most mighty of all the Primarchs. Now he bore heinous marks of his Chaos Masters. He was swollen with power, gigantic of size and distorted in his daemonic form. Now he was more powerful than any mortal creature. For his part Sanguinius still bore the wounds of his battle on Earth. He had fought Daemons and survived, but against Horus he was as an insect to a hungry and gigantic monstrosity. It was a short and bloody battle before the brazen throne of Horus. The blade of Sanguinius sang as it spun through the air, cutting and stabbing at the Warmaster's Armour. The armour of Horus bled where that blade touched it, for now the Warmaster and his armour were one, it had grown to be part of him. It was not for long that Horus endured this whirling dance. He lashed out clumsily. Lightning Claws arced through the air, catching upon bulkheads and doors, tearing great gashes and sending molten metal shrieking across the floor. Soaring over Horus' head, Sanguinius easily avoided those sluggish strokes, and eagerly sought out a weak spot in Horus' defences. As he flew he spotted a damaged link of armour on the Warmaster's neck, and Sanguinius stabbed out with all his remaining strength. His blade lodged at once in the Warmaster's armour. Horus screamed more with anger than with pain, and reached out to strike the winged Primarch. Steel talons dripping with plasmic energy closed upon the winged Angel of Baal. According to some versions of the tale it was this wound that Sanguinius struck which opened a chink through the armour of Horus, enabling the Emperor to slay his enemy. The Blood Angels certainly say as much in their doctrine. They pray to Sanguinius as they do to the Emperor, for he remains their patron and guide in death as he once was in life. In any case, when the Emperor found the Warmaster it was as he stood over the broken body of Sanguinius, the Primarch's wings twisted and feathers still at last. The rest of the tale has no direct bearing upon the future of the Blood Angels and is well known. Suffice to say the Emperor defeated Horus after a long and hardfought battle in which the Emperor was himself mortally wounded, and after which he was placed in the eternal stasis of the Golden Throne from which he has ruled the Imperium ever since. After the final battle was over, and the forces of Chaos were retreating towards the Eye of Terror, the established Space Marine Legions were reorganized into the smaller Space Marine Chapters. The Blood Angels had lost many warriors in the war, but worst of all the genetic banks which provided their implants had been partially destroyed. The only way to make good the damage was to recapture gene-seed from the body of Sanguinius, the Primarch whose genetic structure had been used to create the Blood Angels. Live germ cells were isolated within Sanguinius' body, and eventually new implants were cultured. In this way the Chapter was rebuilt using the gene-seed of Sanguinius taken from his dead body. At the time all seemed well, and it was only over the following millennia that the gene-seed showed traces of mutation. Such matters are not unusual. Every Chapter's gene-seed is subject to a process of evolution or decay, and so must be vigorously examined and periodically purged of fault. As a result most Chapters have idiosyncrasies, but in the case of the Blood Angels these were to prove very strange indeed. Of all the sorrows of the Horus Heresy the doom of the Emperor weighs most heavily. Yet even this woe would have been greater were it not for Sanguinius Primarch of the Blood Angels, the Winged Angel at the Emperor's right hand, and foremost Guardian of the Master of Mankind. As battle raged across the orbital fortress of Horus the Great Betrayer, Sanguinius found and fought the enemy, and was destroyed by the Warmaster, a broken angel cast down at the feet of abomination. This was how the Emperor found his greatest enemy and his most loyal friend, and so began the battle for the Heart of Mankind, over the body of the Winged Angel. It is said it was through the chink in Horus' armour opened by Sanguinius that the Emperor was able to deliver the fatal blow. Thus the brightest of all the Emperor's host did not die in vain, crushed upon the steps of Horus' foul altar, but dying gave the Emperor the one chance to destroy forever the Great Betrayer. Of all the Primarchs of the Space Marines it is Sanguinius whose temples rise aside those of the Emperor, and whose name is cherished by ordinary folk in gratitude for the life that was taken and

the life that was spared. Alone of all the Primarchs his memory is honoured by a sanctified day of celebration, the Sanguinala, when Adepts across the galaxy wear upon their breast the red badge of the Lord Angel. We are the sword of fire with which the Traitors shall be cut down. Do not speak to me of victory. I count nothing as a victory while one Rebel heart still beats. - Commander Marren Ragne, Blood Angels

THE EYE OF TERROR

The nature of the alternate dimension of warp space remains one of the darkest mysteries of the galaxy. The warp is home to terrors every bit as real as marauding Orks and ravenous Genestealers. For it is the home of the Dark Gods of Chaos and their daemons. It is raw and powerful, its dark energies succoured by the most dreadful nightmares of mortal existence. Warp space has many strange properties, many of which are a mystery to the research theologians of the Adeptus Mechanicus and Adeptus Astra Telepathica. A psyker can, for example, often feel the wake of an arriving spacecraft before the vessel has arrived. Other pressures and movements within the warp can be sensed, often before, during, or long after the events which caused them. Time in the warp appears to run at right angles or in the wrong direction to observers in real space. This odd time flow even allows some psykers to make predictions as to future events and cataclysms, although such omens are rarely clear cut. The Astronomicans constant signals, spacecraft in the warp, warp storms, unexplained psychic echoes, creatures moving within the warp and the whirlpools of psychic misery that cloak some planetary systems contribute to the white noise of warp space. Psykers and the Warp Warp entities are a hideous threat to psykers, especially those who are unprotected by the Emperors soul binding. They are a gateway into reality for many strange and terrible creatures: Astral Hounds and Spectres, Enslavers and, most terrible of all, Chaos Daemons. In the Chaos Wastes of the Warhammer World, Daemons exist as creatures as real as any natural beasts. Their form is their own, drawn from the power of the warp and given solidity in the Chaos Wastes. The universe of the Imperium is, however, less attuned to the forces of Chaos than the Chaos Wastes and the Warhammer World. As a consequence, a Daemon cannot manifest a body of its own, but it can use an existing one. Daemonic possession is rightly feared by many psykers, for it is usually fatal. The psychic shock of sharing a body with an unknowably alien creature is sufficient to kill the strongest mind, absorbing its strength into the fabric of Chaos. Physical changes, which are often damaging and fatal in themselves, are also a mark of a daemonic presence. Even if the psyker is a willing host, death and dissipation within Chaos is the final reward of possession. And each time a psyker is taken, the barriers between reality and raw Chaos grow a little thinner. Humanity moves closer to its future... The nature of the alternate dimension of warp space remains one of the darkest mysteries of the galaxy. Even to the great Technomagi of the Adeptus Mechanicus on Mars the warp represents both the ultimate source of power and the ultimate threat to human existence. The Black Library of the Eldar is said to describe the secrets of its daemonic energy, but its portals are barred by the servants of the Great Harlequin. Perhaps warp space is simply too complex and volatile to be understood by mortal minds. Whatever the truth, the warp is home to terrors every bit as real as marauding Orks and ravenous Genestealers. For it is the home of the Dark Gods of Chaos and

their daemonic hordes, it is the Realm of Chaos itself: raw and powerful, its dark energies succoured by the most dreadful nightmares of mortal existence. If warp space where wholly separate from the material universe it would present no danger. However, there are many gateways between the world of matter and the realm of power, some great and others small, but all bristling with potential danger. The largest gateway is the Eye of Terror, a region of space where the two universes overlap. At the centre of the Eye of Terror all is Chaos, a whirlpool of energy where the creatures of the warp bathe in swirling currents of hate and madness. This is the pupil of the Eye of Terror. Around this is a far broader zone of overlap, where the material universe is conjoined with the warp. Here the laws of the material universe are subject to the whims of Chaos daemons. The daemons themselves can effortlessly take on material shape by drawing upon the energy of the warp to manifest their physical bodies. Here can be found the daemon worlds, private hells created by daemon lords, the most powerful daemons of all, second only the Gods of Chaos in might and malice. On the daemon worlds a mortal may life forever at the whim of his daemonic masters, enduring an eternity of torment or pleasure without release. As the influence of the Eye of Terror spreads and weakens so the worlds upon its edges become more normal, more closely bound by the physical laws of the universe and less by the warp. Here daemons can manifest themselves only for a short time because the nurturing power of the warp is too weak to sustain them for long. These worlds are home to the mortal followers of Chaos, the bands of Chaos Renegades that plague the galaxy, to outlaws and desperados from a thousand worlds, and to the most dreaded enemies of all - the Chaos Space Marine Legions. The threat of Chaos is most obvious in the case of the Eye of Terror, but it is by no means the only threat. Smaller zones of overlap also exist, presenting dangers of a similar kind but a different magnitude. The majority of gateways are more subtle, and the dangers they pose are different but no less potent. The mind of every psychic creature is a potential gateway through which a daemon can enter the material universe, planting seeds of doubt and ambition into its victim. Such thoughts can corrupt a man, turning his mind to the pursuit of power and personal gain. The Eye of Terror lies on the edge of the galaxy to the north-west of Earth. It can be plainly seen as a swirl of stars swirling very much like an eye. The Eye of Terror is also the centre of a huge and dangerous warp storm. It is in fact one of file few places in the galaxy where real space and the warp actually overlap. Following the wars known as the Horus Heresy which were fought at the dawn of Imperial history, rebel forces allied to Warmaster Horus fled into the Eye of Terror after their defeat at the hands of the Emperor and loyal human troops. Their descendants still rule the Eye of Terror. Their prolonged contact with the warp and its inhabitants has changed them utterly: they are no longer human nor wholly sane. They remain amongst the most deadly enemies of the Imperium and humanity. The region of space known as the Eye of Terror lies on the edge of the galaxy to the north and west of Earth. It can be plainly seen as a swirl of stars in the form of a vast and unblinking eye spanning over ten thousand light years of space. The Eye of Terror is the largest known zone of warp/reality space overlap. There are many other such Zones scattered throughout the galaxy, but they are much smaller and much less significant. At the centre of the Eye of Terror is a hole in the fabric of space like a puncture in the skin of a balloon. The raw energy of Chaos pours through this hole and mixes with the material universe. As a result of this intermixture, the Eye of Terror is not wholly subject to the laws of time or space. Its boundaries effectively mark an end to normal and habitable space. There are stars and worlds within the Eye of Terror, but they are unlike the familiar stars, solar systems, and planets that populate the rest of the galaxy. Each world is a self-contained manifestation of a unique nightmarish sub-reality, a vision of hell formed without regard for the logic of either astrophysics or nature. The energy of the warp saturates these places and sustains a cosmology based on the inhuman perceptions of the powers of Chaos. Thus there are worlds which are flat like dinner plates, worlds surrounded by circling fireballs which provide light and warmth,

and tiered worlds like gigantic wedding cakes rising step-by-step on supporting pillars. No-one can say exactly how many of these realities exist inside of the Eye of Terror. There must be many thousands if not tens of thousands. Indeed, their number and even their very form are probably inconstant and unpredictable. Because the Eye of Terror is so steeped in chaotic energy it is not as inhospitable to daemons of chaos as normal space. This is not to say that daemons can live or move completely freely within the Eye of Terror, but their conjuration is vastly easier and their power is correspondingly greater than it would be elsewhere in the galaxy. The centre of the Eye of Terror is more hospitable to daemons than the fringes as it is more highly saturated with chaos energy. The worlds which lie closest to the centre of the Eye are called the Daemon Worlds. Daemon Worlds On the Daemon Worlds, Chaos reigns triumphant! A daemon can move unhindered from the warp to one of the Daemon Worlds. The Chaos Powers regard these worlds as provinces of Chaos in the galaxy of matter - material colonies of their immaterial empires. The four Great Powers continuously compete to possess the Daemon Worlds. Armies of daemons and their living allies fight huge bloody battles to determine which of the Chaos Powers will possess them. These battles often last for hundreds of years, so that the entire world becomes little more than a gigantic arena where the opposing forces are pitched against each other. The Chaos Powers do not, of course, appear in person to lead their armies - they are spectators to events and not participants. Their generals are Greater Daemons and favoured Daemon Princes who, because they were once alive, understand the nature of both the material universe and the immaterial Realm of Chaos. Once a Daemon Prince has conquered a world, his grateful Patron gives it to him as a gift to rule over as he wishes! When a Daemon Prince takes control of his hard-won world he uses his mighty powers to reshape it to a form which pleases him. Because of this, every world is different and all are equally spectacular in their own way. The most powerful psykers in the Imperium have reported dreams or visions in which worlds of The Eye of Terror have been revealed to them. On one world a black sun stands in a white sky and smoky threads pour from it onto a tangled black city - this is said to be the homeworld of the Daemon Prince Perturabo, formerly the Space Marine Primarch of the Iron Warriors. Another world has boiling lakes of blood from which spheres of fire float into the sky and spread their light across the firmament - the ruler of this world is the Daemon Prince Bubonicus, formerly a mortal Champion of Nurgle on one of the myriad lost worlds in the galaxy. Visions of such places disturb the psychically sensitive throughout the entire galaxy. To the living inhabitants of the rest of the galaxy, the prospect of entering the Eye of Terror is terrifying. Navigators will shun space for thousands of light years around it rather than risk a minor deviation in course which might take them into its boundaries. most Navigators have personal experience of close encounters with Chaos near the Eye of Terror. Many can recalls other Navigators who travelled too close to the Eye in a foolish attempt to cut days from their journey time only to vanish forever. On the Eldar Craftworlds there are sealed doorways which were once warp gates leading to living worlds, since swallowed up by the eye of Terror. Now those entrances are sealed with bonds of Wraithbone a thousand times stronger than steel, and cursed with runes so potent that just to look upon them would drive a mortal creature insane. Within the Eye of Terror the Chaos Powers exert such an influence that normal mortal life can be snuffed out at a whim. Even psykers, whose psychic energy is greater than that of ordinary men, cannot resist the will of Chaos for long. Eventually, all mortal creatures who remain inside the Eye of Terror become either the slaves of Chaos or its Champions. The Eye of Terror is home to countless millions of living creatures. Many of these are human, or were once human before Chaos perverted them into forms no longer recognisable as such. Every world in the Eye of Terror has its mortal population whose Champions and warbands form the mortal armies of Chaos in the galaxy. Even Daemon Worlds have mortals who live there and worship their chaos masters as gods. The Eye of Terror offers a place of sanctuary to human worshippers of Chaos forced to flee from

the Imperium. The Inquisition never rests in its bid to oust Chaos Cultists from Imperial worlds, and whole planets have been destroyed in order to eradicate thriving cults. However, despite the vigilance of the Inquisition, many worlds harbour secret Chaos Cultists. Even Imperial officials are sometimes drawn into these cults and led to betray their race and the Emperor. Cultists who have the means and courage to flee the Inquisition often make for the Eye of Terror and the welcoming arms of their chaos masters. These traitors are useful servants because they know a great deal about the Imperium and its defences. Mortals who take refuge in the Eye of Terror can become very powerful Champions of Chaos many will have dedicated themselves to Chaos and might already be well on the way to daemonhood. Many mortals took refuge in this way following Horus's defeat by the Emperor. Those Traitor Marines who survived the defeat were led in to the Eye of Terror by their Primarchs. They were joined by rebels from the Imperial Guards, the Fleet, and other former followers of Horus, including many Beastmen. Such is the nature of the Eye of Terror that some of the very individuals who fled there in those far off days are still alive ten thousand years later, granted vastly extended mortal lives by their Chaos Patrons. Whether this reflects a reward for their loyalty or a punishment for their failure it is impossible to say. Daemon Battles The mortal population of a world in the Eye of Terror serves Chaos in two equally important ways. Mortals provide the manpower for the armies of Chaos, especially for armies which roam beyond the Eye of Terror in the material universe. Mortals also worship the Chaos Powers and thereby add their own psychic energies to the total energy available to their master. On the Daemon Worlds life is war; war is the name of Chaos, war fought to amuse or serve the Chaos Powers. Mortal Champions, warbands, mortal and daemonic armies, all battle together in an endless celebration of strife. the Chaos Powers revel in the adoration of their favourite warriors, and savour the blood that is shed willingly in their honour. Should the pace of conflict slacken, a Chaos Power will invite a rival Power to send an invading army to one of his worlds so that they can enjoy the sport of battle. The limits and terms of the tournament are determined beforehand: the number of troops, daemons, and Champions to be committed for example. The wager is likely to be possession of the planet itself! The Chaos Powers love such contests and will often gamble whole worlds on the outcome of a single combat between two mortal Champions. Although the Eye of Terror seethes with almost perpetual warfare, not every mortal creature is necessarily harnessed to battle. Chaos wants the best warriors after all! Only those who are brave enough to fight their way to freedom from the slave pits, prayer-gangs and black factories are good enough to fight for Chaos. The remainder serve through work and worship. Slaves are rewarded in the bitter way of Chaos; they learn to love the lash and become frenzied with pleasure as they approach extremes of self-sacrifice, trying to outdo their neighbours in their efforts to please their masters. Just as the industrial slaves labour to produce the weapons and armour for battle, so vast prayer gangs are put to work worshipping their masters. On the Daemon World of Bubonicus, for example, the equator is surrounded by a dancing human chain which sings and dances the praise of Nurgle as it circles the world. The dancer develop Nurgle's Rot and gradually mutate into Plague bearers. The Plague bearers join their master and new mortals take their place so that the circle is never broken. This theatrical conceit pleases Nurgle tremendously, so that Bubonicus has commanded that it should never cease. This is a typical example of the vast scale of worship which the Chaos Powers enjoy. Other examples include planets where millions of people chant the same mantra in a cry of perpetual worship so that the whole world vibrates to their voices. The entire energies of another are spent building and tolling bells as big as cities whose thunderous peals rebound around the globe while thousands of slaves labour to swing them. There is said to be a world belonging to Nurgle where the entire population is enslaved to keeping the accounts of disease and pestilence, recording every incidence of sickness in the entire galaxy.

Warp Travel
Because the Eye of Terror exists both in real space and the warp it can be reached by spacecraft travelling in either the material universe or the immaterial warp. By moving into the Eye of Terror a spacecraft can move between the two alternative universes. Renegades have access to many kinds of spacecraft, including captured vessels as well as the remnants of the fleets assembled by Horus to attack Earth during the Heresy. Because of the complex, non-linear progress of time within the warp, craft which are thousands of years old are still in service, many as gleaming and potent as the day on which they were launched. Other craft are built on worlds within the Eye of Terror, raised by the servants of Chaos as sacrifices to their daemonic masters. The outward appearance of such ships varies a great deal, but on all it is one of corruption and madness. The flow of the warp can carry a spacecraft through time as well as space, so that what seems like a few days' travel may take a craft through thousands of years of time. Imperial ships are built to minimise these effects, and their crews are careful to navigate round the worse eddies and whirlpools of the warp. Chaos spacecraft are inconsiderate of such matters and they are content to drift through time and space until the winds of chance bring them upon a suitable target. Ships sometimes get caught up in the warp and subjected to the disturbing effects of time distortion. Even some of Horus's original forces suddenly reappear after ten thousand years of travel, unaware that their cause is lost and determined to continue their attack upon the forces of the Imperium. One of the most weird and extreme results of spacecraft being caught by temporal whirlpools in the warp is the creation of Champions fated to foresee their own Heroic Death. The lives and deaths of all living things have an existence in the warp. Caught up in such a cyclone of time a man might witness his own death, or that of another, the more heroic and spectacular his doom, the more likely it is to be revealed. Once a Champion's glorious fate has been seen, and it becomes known that he will achieve a Heroic Death, his fame spreads throughout the galaxy. The manner of his doom will be explained by countless followers of Chaos, and the brave deeds which he is yet to perform earn him a formidable reputation. Because his doom is certain, the Champion need have no worries about being slain at any other time, and can therefore disregard such petty fears for his own safety as might otherwise concern him, and spend his remaining life living up to the glorious image of his own death. Within the Eye of Terror the Traitor Legions established the rule and worship of Chaos - with their exiled slaves they have created their own Imperium of Chaos. The warp storms isolated the Eyes only system, and the poison of Chaos seeped into reality, creating a zone of madness and insanity to rival and finally dwarf the Chaos Wastes. The Eyes habitable planets became Warp Worlds, entirely given over to mutation, twisted reality and Chaos. The warping of Chaos has also worked its foul changes upon the Traitor Legions. Where once were Space Marines -eaten by the rot of Chaos but Marines nonetheless - there are now only Traitor Legionnaires. Chaos has wrought changes of a subtle and gross nature in the minds and bodies of the Legionnaires. They are the same beings who revolted against the Imperium ten thousand years ago, made ageless by the seeping power of Chaos. They are not, however, unchanged. Few of the Legionnaires have escaped mutation in one form or another. Many have made personal pacts with Chaos, allowing their bodies to be possessed by Daemons. Many of the officers of the Legions, seeking to prove their loyalty to their dark masters, have given also themselves to Daemons. In more extreme cases Legionnaires and some of the lesser exiles have become hosts for Summoned Daemons. Over the course of centuries, The Eye of Terror has been warped to such a degree that Summoned Daemons can exist comfortably within reality. Only when they leave the Eye as part of a raiding force, for example, do the stresses of reality affect them. The Traitor Legions and the Eye of Terror have also acted as a magnet for the darkest elements of the Imperium. Chaos Renegades often retreat there, where their presence is not only tolerated but welcomed. The Traitor Legions have retained their old Chapters, now dedicated to the service of

the Chaos Powers rather than the Imperium. They have also maintained the ancient technology of gene-seeding and adaptive surgery. The children needed to become new Legionnaires have been bred from slave stock and a variety of Humans captured on Legion raids into the Imperium. Although nominally loyal to the dead Warmaster and his clone-sons, the history of the Traitor Legions is littered with internecine struggles, as one Legion has fought with the servants of a rival Chaos Power. For the most part, however, rival Legions vent their hatred upon the Imperium that defeated and imprisoned them. Possessed Legionnaires are naturally attuned to the warp, and have no difficulty in guiding their Legion transports (which are now little better than hulks) across warp space to almost any point in the galaxy. The Legionnaires descend from their ships, destroy and plunder an Imperial world, and retreat into the Eye. Only when a loyal Chapter of Space Marines is nearby does a raid meet formidable opposition. The Inquisition has maintained a watch upon the system within the Eye through its irregular nullship probes. The nullships, spy vessels hidden behind screening shields and psychic barriers, are equipped with massive sensor arrays to take physical readings of the Eye warp worlds and collect data on the various Traitor Legion bases and fortresses. Specially trained psykers, themselves watched for signs of Chaos-contamination and wrong thinking, monitor the thoughts and feelings of the Legionnaires. For all this, the information collected by the nullships is fragmentary. Many are lost to the natural hazards of Eye, destroyed as their psyker crews are driven insane by the images they have sensed, or taken by Traitor Legionnaires in boarding actions.

THE DARK POWERS - THE GODS OF CHAOS

There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity and the carnage and laughter of thirsting gods. Anon The raw warp stuff of Chaos is mindless and unthinking, but has a consciousness of its own. It is aware only in the crudest of ways, growing and evolving only through chance and random action. Within warp space, the fabric of Chaos ebbs and flows, forming eddies and vortices of pressure and potential energy, concentrating power in relatively small locales. These swirls and eddies, great warp storms that can seal off huge tracts of warp space (and real space - spacecraft are unable to navigate warp storms), are capable of unimaginable acts of creation and destruction. The storms are the Powers of Chaos, its lords and masters, formed of the endlessly fluid fabric of their universe. As their concentration within the warp changes, the Chaos Powers ebb and flow, At times a little of a Chaos Powers substance dissipates into the warp, at others a Power increases its strength, drawing more of the warp into itself. Some warp storms end quickly, having spent their fury in relentless turbulence that lasts moments or millennia, These are the lesser Powers of Chaos, eternal and ever changing. They coalesce from the warp for a brief time, and are capable of existence for only a flicker of time, They waste their substance upon the warp, and dissolve once more into formless Chaos. While they hold together, the Powers achieve intelligence, personality and purpose. They can perceive the warp and their companion warp storms. They can also see dimly beyond the warp into the real universe. Many never reach beyond this perceptive state, adrift in the flow of the warp. They run the course of all warp storms, and then dissolve once more. Other warp storm Powers, the more formidable of their kind, however, achieve coherence of a different order, and they are able to manipulate the warp around themselves, holding the fabric of the warp in a pattern of their own choosing. Such Chaos Powers still wax and wane with the flow of the warp, but their core of intelligence and personality remains, protected by its own power. The

great Powers of Chaos - Khorne, Slaanesh, Nurgle and Tzeentch - are beings of this magnitude. The movements of the warp are difficult to plot or understand. A disturbance spreads through the formless Chaos of the warp void, like the ripples caused by a pebble dropped into a pond. The ghostly echoes of events long-gone, eddies and swirls of objects moving within the warp and the shifting of the Chaos Powers cause endless perturbations, which in turn fuel more disturbances and so on, ad infinitum. The warp is a universe with endless echoes and echoes of echoes, the whole a ceaseless noise of power and movement. These unstoppable waves of movement form and reform the Powers of Chaos. Their start may be a chance event: the passage of a spaceship through the warp, its wake spreading out into infinity; the comings and goings of creatures within the warp; or the doings of one of the Chaos Powers. There is undoubtedly another irritant that forms ripples in the warp: Mankind. Humanity has long been able to use the power of the warp- magicians, seers, witches, and mediums, shamans and exorcists have all used the warp, although they may have done so without true knowledge. Such abilities are a legacy of Mans close relationship with Chaos, a link that is growing in strength. Once the gift of psychic power, witchcraft and magic was rare, confined to only a few hapless individuals who usually fell victim to superstitious prejudice. Now many Humans - psykers - have psionic powers, and each causes a pinprick of disturbance within the warp; each is the seed for a warp storm; each can rouse a Chaos Power. The blaring of the Astronomican, the Imperial psychic beacon, is a constant pressure within the warp. The homing signal enables the ships of Humanity to navigate safely within the warp, but its transmissions echo across the warp, causing untold ripples and unpredictable flows. And, within the teeming hordes of Man, there are those who nurture the warp. They gather together in secret covens and cults to worship the Chaos powers, weakening the barriers between reality and warp space and setting in motion events and forces with horrific potential. Some know Chaos in its true form, but they are uncaring of the consequences. Power in the present is all that matters, the future can care for itself. Many cultists believe that they can mould the warp to their will and in this they are partly correct. The warp Powers drink the emotions and thoughts of Mankind, growing bloated with power in the process. Over the millennia each has fed on an aspect of Man: its rage, lust, corruption, and inconstancy. As they have absorbed this power the Chaos Powers have gained human aspects: Khorne has become a being of bloody rage; Slaanesh has grown to be the Lord of Pleasure; foul Nurgle welcomes all that is decay; and Tzeentch revels in change and metamorphosis. Corrupted and moulded by the thoughts and feelings of reality, the warp Powers nurture more hatred or depravity in the hearts of Mankind. And so a circle is established - Mans follies feed the warp Powers, and the Powers encourage Man to further follies.

The Four Major Gods

Khorne - The Blood God Khorne is the Blood God, the angry and murderous god of Chaos, one of the great four Powers. His great brass throne sits upon a mountainous pile of bones - the remains of his followers who have died in battle, and of the many they have killed in his name. The growing bone pile reflects the success of his worshippers, feeding his glory but never quenching his thirst for blood and death. Khorne is the Power of Chaos in its aspect of mindless and absolute violence, destroying everything and everyone within its reach, slaying both friend and foe alike. He is the Huntsman of Souls who drives the great armies of Chaos before him. His horn sounds in the depths of the Eye of Terror, urging his followers ever onwards in search of fresh prey. Khorne watches the wild destruction wrought in his name, and his bellows of rage and delight can be heard echoing across the Warp. Khorne is the most powerful of all the Chaos Gods. His chief rival is Tzeentch, the Great Sorcerer. Tzeentch is the patron of sorcerers just as Khorne is the patron of warriors. Of course, this rivalry does not prevent Khorne making common cause with Tzeentch when it is convenient to do so. Combined, the two gods are always more powerful than the others. Of all his brother gods Khorne most despises Slannesh, whose prancing fopperies are an affront to Khorne's sense of honour and martial pride. Even so, Khorne makes use of the Prince of Chaos when

necessary, as much as it may gall him to do so. Khorne is the god of anger and destruction, the warrior god of Chaos whose bellows of rage echo throughout time and space. He sits upon a great throne of brass atop a mountainous pile of bleached skulls. Whenever a Champion of Khorne is slain in battle his skull is added to the pile, which slowly grows higher and higher. Khorne is a fighting god and his daemons and mortal Champions are amongst the most potent warriors of all. Khorne is a noble warrior who respects strength and bravery, which takes no joy in destroying the weak and considers the helpless unworthy of his wrath. It is said that fate will spare any brave warrior who calls upon Khorne's name and pledges his soul to the blood god. It is also said that Khorne's daemons will hunt down and destroy any warrior who betrays his honour by killing a helpless innocent or murdering in cold blood. Khorne's great delight is battle and the spilling of blood. A splintered sea of bone extends infinitely in all directions, the remains of those slain in battle by his conquering champions. Khorne is a god of warriors, and his gaze is drawn towards battles. He shows favour to those who fight for what they desire, to great warriors, and to mighty war leaders. Khorne respects strength, honour and martial skill. Khorne is the Power of Chaos in its aspect of mindless and absolute violence, destroying everything and everyone within its reach, slaying both friend and foe alike. He is the Huntsman of Souls who drives the great armies of Chaos before him. His horn sounds in the depths of the Eye of Terror, urging his followers ever onwards in search of fresh prey. Khorne watches the wild destruction wrought in his name, and his bellows of rage and delight can be heard echoing across the Warp. Khorne is commonly depicted as a muscular humanoid figure hundreds of feet tall, sitting on a vast and weirdly carved throne of brass, which in turn rests on a mountain of bloodstained bones. He is dressed in plate armour of a strange and alien design, elaborately carved and worked with a repeating skull motif. His head is covered by his huge winged helmet, with only a portion of his bestial, snarling face showing beneath it. Khorne wears ornate armour of black chaos metal and brass. He leans upon a mighty two-handed axe made from the same black substance. His body is broad and muscular and his head has the features of a fierce dog superimposed over human form. Upon his fingers he wears many brass rings, some embossed with his own skull rune. Thus he appears in visionary form to his worshippers, but who can say what shape the gods may assume for their own fell purposes? The symbol of Khorne is a skull, the symbol of death. This is often rendered as an X-shaped rune with a bar across the bottom. His followers favour red, black and brass in their dress and armour, the hues of blood, death and Khorne's own armour respectively. The number eight is also associated with Khorne and this is reflected in the organization of his daemonic armies and followers. Khorne is worshipped by both Chaos Marines and foul Beastmen alike. He has no temples as such, but is worshipped upon the battlefield. Furthermore, his followers believe that they would displease him by wasting valuable time building temples and worshipping in them when they could be slaying in Khorne's name. Every life taken by a follower of Khorne increases the Blood God's power. He looks with particular favour upon those who take the lives of their friends and allies, and the more death and destruction a creature has caused, the more welcome it is as a sacrifice to Khorne. Followers of Khorne have no friends and few long-term acquaintances - all are soon-to-be sacrifices to Khorne. Even another follower of Khorne may try at any time to offer their lives to the Blood God! Followers of Khorne may have allies for a short time, but they are always aware that all other intelligent beings fear and hate them, and will seek to destroy them at any opportunity. The Bastion Stair I fell then, through charnel clouds and red mists that swirled about a land of dark ruin and much despair. The cries of some enormous beasts, their lowings of fear and desperation, reached my ears. And still I fell, driven now by fetid winds, towards a wall or cliff of deepest

red and blackened iron. Its top was hidden in the clouds far above, its base was grit with boulders and skulls, no larger in my sight than sand specks, that it piled before its inexorable advance. The wall, for such it was, lay unbroken in its awful perfection from horizon to horizon. I grew afraid, for this was the Outer Realm of Khorne, the Blood God, and this wall his Bastion, the Fortress about the Inner Lands. It now seemed to me that the stench of Death broke my fall as I flew onwards, towards fresh visions of this vast corner of Chaos. And then ahead I saw a Stair, surrounded by pinnacles and columns and arches of blood and carven bone, circled by Daemons bound within black iron, brazen steps and hideous shrieking mouths. All that could speak or gibber vomited forth the praises of Khorne and shrieked out songs of Blood and Death. The Stair, its treads never built for mortal feet, climbed the dizzy heights, pausing at times before profane runes and stained sacrifice stones. Within the very fabric of the Daemon-thronged Bastion were smaller landings, each of which could have held a lofty and noble palace of our small World. The Stair twisted and rippled on itself, its Daemons chuckling their insane glee at its dreadful geometry. Still it climbed, ever upwards into the clouds of gore that circled overhead. In all my vision, I saw not one living beast or man. Through brazen gates and up endless steps I flew, my soul in dread as Daemons snapped at my heels. And before my eyes, as I rose from that place, I beheld the Fields and Meadows of Khorne beyond the Bastion, all quite soaked in red, stained with souls, and planted with endless lines of corpses lashed to their stakes like a grotesquery of bean plants. A thousand thousand Daemons cavorted with their dead and deathless buds, which were watered by gorefilled aqueducts and ditches. The Daemons marched and countermarched about their charges, stopping here to water the unprecious fruits, and there to dung upon them. And the air was filled with the taste of blood, the stench of the slaughterhouse, the noise of blood let from countless unready throats and all about was red beneath the brass sky of that Inner Realm -Liber Malefic, The Book of Hated Khorne, Marius HollseherThe Tree of Souls I walked across Khornes Meadows, beneath the brazen sky. All about were fields of black flowers, each a shade trapped in death, each bloom a twisted face, each leaf a tiny skull, each stem a spine of tiny bones. Crimson-flecked flies sucked at the bloody nectar in the corrupt fields, and the air was filled with a stench of despair. The blooms of death nodded at my passing and whispered to one another. At my feet crimson worms and maggots gorged themselves on the lifeblood of Khornes fallen. The distant shrieks of Daemons, cavorting and dancing around their borders and gardens of blood, reached my ears, blown across that dark meadow by a breeze made sweet with the smell of rotting meat. And then I came to the Tree of Damned Shades. Living souls had hung upon its branches and living souls had been buried among its roots long ago, in the winter of that bloody land. Twisted with pain and self-loathing, warped with loyalty to Chaos, the shades had made their pact of blood and now had their reward. Those same shades, now condemned for eternity and piteous in their grieving, gibbered regrets and fears and promises of gratitude from every branch and twig, save one whose defiant eye I met. I paused in the glare of that eye, and waited a while. The tree spoke in a voice of creaking and tearing wood, as if a thousand axes struck at it heartwood. By my broken faith, and darkened promises, a mortal walks here. For all those mortals who have tasted my fruits and drunk of my sweet blossoms, I will taste his nectar, drink of his blood. For once my roots eat of his flesh, he is mine, and what was his is mine. A body A body I will be free of this confinement. My loyalty true and clear, I will slay in Khornes name. Blood beyond measure will I give to him. Oh, to be free of this wooden frame, so I could once more march to the beat of my heart

The tree lashed its branches about me, and I fled, for my fate lay not with those trapped and hideous souls -Liber Malefic, The Book of Hated Khorne, Marius HollseherTzeentch - The Changer of the Ways Tzeentch is the god of fortune and chance and the cosmic architect of fate and destiny. His body is covered with faces that constantly shift and change, reflecting the mood of Tzeentch as his all seeing mind probes the endless strands of fate which hold the universe together. Tzeentch schemes and plots to further his own unimaginable purposes, sometimes supporting a mortal cause, at other times hindering it, but constantly manipulating the vastly complex strands of fate which hold the secrets of life and death. Because Tzeentch's plots are so convoluted it is impossible to divine what his true purposes or intentions are. His machinations invariably turn out to be more subtle and complex than they first appear, and even his most loyal followers are likely to discover only too late that they are just pawns in a cosmic game of the gods. Tzeentch is also the god of mental energy and magic - the raw forces of change themselves. Tzeentch is known by many titles including the Changer of the Ways, the Master of Fortune, the Great Conspirator, and the Architect of Fate. These titles reflect his masterly comprehension of destiny, history, intrigue and plot. In his mind he listens to the plans and hopes of every man and every nation. With his all-seeing eye he watches these plans unfold into history. Tzeentch is not content to merely observe the fulfilment and disappointment brought by the passage of time. He has his own plans: schemes which are so complex and closely woven that they touch the lives of every living thing, whether they know it or not. Tzeentch feeds upon the need and desire for change that is an essential part of human nature. It is also a part of dwarven and elven natures, but not to the same extent as mankind is a far more volatile and ambitious species. All men dream of wealth, freedom and a better tomorrow. Nor are these dreams the preserve of the impoverished or powerless as even rich men dream of further riches, or of an end to their responsibilities. All these dreams create a powerful impetus for change, and the ambitions of nations create a force that can change history. Tzeentch is the embodiment of that force. Tzeentch is the greatest magician of the Chaos Powers. Magic is one of the most potent of all agents of change, and those who use it are amongst the most ambitious and the hungry for power. Many Champions of Tzeentch are also Wizards, while others are likely to be given magical powers or artefacts by their Patron. Some Daemons of Tzeentch are creatures made from magical energy, and they often appear to be transparent or glowing with an inner light. The Lesser Daemons, or Horrors, cast spells around them as they move, while the Flamers of Tzeentch project multicoloured flames of raw magic. The Greater Daemons, the Lords of Change, are more substantial, and their very thoughts appear as magical multicoloured mist which swirls about their heads. All this magic gives the followers and Daemons of Tzeentch a very distinctive and colourful character. Tzeentch is also the Great Conspirator, the master of plot and intrigue. Because he is aware of the dreams and plans of all mortals, he is able to predict the likely course, or courses, which the future might take. Tzeentch perceives every event and every intention, and from this information his mighty mind can work out how each will influence the future. Tzeentch is not content to merely watch the drama of history as it unfolds. He has purposes of his own, although what they are is impossible to say for sure. His intentions are complicated, his schemes highly sophisticated and incredibly long-term. Perhaps he has plans to otherthrow the other Powers, or to extend his dominion over mortal realms. Whatever his ultimate purpose, he seeks to achieve it by manipulating the individual lives of men, thereby altering the course of history. By offering power and magic he can recruit influential people to his cause, and affect the lives of many more at a single stroke. However, few of Tzeentch's plots are simple, and many may appear at first contradictory to others, or against Tzeentch's own interests. Only Tzeentch can see

the threads of potential futures weaving forward in time like tangled balls of multicoloured wool. The skin of Tzeentch crawls with constantly changing faces, leering and mocking the onlooker. As he speaks, these faces sometimes repeat what he says with subtle but important differences, or provide a commentary that throws doubt upon his words. This makes it very hard to interpret what exactly Tzeentch is saying. These lesser faces appear and disappear quite quickly, but the actual head of Tzeentch does not change. His puckered face sits low down and has no neck, so that it is hard to distinguish his head from his chest. His curving horns appear to spring from his shoulders rather than from his head. The firmament surrounding Tzeentch is heavy with brooding magic. It weaves like liquid smoke about his head, forming subtle and interwoven patterns. Forms of places and people appear in the smoke as Tzeentch's mind contemplates their fate. Every Power of Chaos has his opposite number, another Power whose nature is the antithesis of his own. Tzeentch is the eternal adversary of Nurgle. His energy comes from the excitement and will to change, to forge one's destiny, change fortune, and gain power. This is quite the opposite of Nurgle, whose power comes from defiance and hopelessness. Nurgle - The Lord of Decay Nurgle is the god of plague, pestilence, decay and physical corruption. His body is huge and bloated, his rotting flesh swollen with decay and pockmarked with sores and lesions. Tiny daemons called Nurglings crawl all over his putrid carcass plucking at torn flesh and sucking at the leprous sores and putrid boils. Nurgle is full of morbid energy and enthusiasm, and his daemons travel through time and space spreading plagues and corruption as they perform their Dance of Death round cities and towns they wish to infect. Mortals who die from Nurgle's plague are never free of their agonies, as their souls are claimed by the plague god and they become new daemon servants in turn. A mortal so much as touched by a daemon of Nurgle will catch some foul disease, and is doomed from that moment on to die. It is held that a mortal who is dying of sickness can forestall his death by calling upon Nurgle and pledging his soul to the Lord of Decay. Nurgle is the Great Lord of Decay and the Master or Plague and Pestilence, his carcase is riddled with disease and infestation. Nurgle is also the Lord of All because all things, no matter how solid and permanent they seem, are liable to physical corruption. Indeed, the very process of construction and creation foreshadow destruction and decay. The palace of today is tomorrow's ruin, the maiden of the morning is the crone of the night, and the hope of a moment is but the foundation stone of everlasting regret. What is the response of living men to the undeniable and inevitable futility of life? Is it to lie down and accept death and the coming to naught of their every endeavour? No it is not! Faced with the inevitability of death what answer can there be but to run through life at a great and unstoppable pace, cramming each day with hope, laughter, noise and bustle. Thus, happiness and human endeavour are sired by a coming to terms with decay and futility. This realisation is the key to understanding the Great Lord of Decay and his worshippers. Once we comprehend what it is that the Chaos Power Nurgle embodies, it becomes easier to understand what might otherwise seem a contradictory or even perverse nature. On the one hand he is the Lord of Decay, whose body is wracked with disease; on the other hand he is full of unexpected energy and a desire to organize and enlighten. The living know that they will die, and many know that they will lie with disease or other torment, yet they drive this knowledge into a corner of their minds and keep it pinioned there with all manner of dreams and activity. Nurgle is the embodiment of that knowledge and of the unconscious response to it, of the hidden fear of disease and decay, and of the power of life which that fear generates. Nurgle is the Chaos God of decay and pestilence. The followers of this foul deity revel in the destruction of the universe and the continual ruination that is part of existence. Nurgle himself plans for the time when the universe dies, and he sends his armies of followers out to speed this time to ultimate victory. In his role as god of pestilence, it is Nurgle and his followers who spread disease and despair

throughout the galaxy. Cultists of Nurgle poison entire Hive Worlds by releasing terrifying toxins into the water and air filtration systems. Entire planets have been swept bare of life by the Death Guard, who kill with infection and disease as well as missile launcher and bolter. When a Chaos host gathers for war followers of Nurgle congregate together, performing depraved ceremonies for their diseased master. The rituals echo across the warp, their dark chants reverberating through the army like the ache on an insistent tumour, gradually building in malignancy and power. When their performance reaches its crescendo, the adepts of Nurgle are gripped with unholy ecstasy. They cavort around the altars of skulls and heaps of disease-ridden flesh which writhe with maggots. Huge swarms of flies gather, buzzing around the macabre festivities, covering the supplicants in a living mass of small black bodies. The air crackles with energy and the daemons of Nurgle appear. Through the tear in reality a tide of tiny Nurglings surge, followed by the energetic Beasts of Nurgle. Then, in solemn procession, march the victims of Nurgle's Rot - the plague bearers of Nurgle. Finally, as the ceremony reaches its climax, the Great Unclean Ones enter, their huge, bloated bodies spilling filth in their wake. With the arrival of the daemons, the construction of massive engines of war begins. Overseen by the Nurgle acolytes, thousands of twisted and corrupted slaves toil to build the awesome machines of destruction that will spread the plague of Nurgle to a hundred worlds. Massive Plague Towers are erected, the Chaos Magi binding the souls of dead slaves into them to power their engines. The festering altars are used to provide ammunition for the disgusting Contagion Plague Engines, and all throughout this frenzied activity the constant buzz of insects and the stench of rotting bodies permeated the air. When the war engines of Nurgle are ready, the pestilent Chaos army sets forth upon its dark crusade. Like a terrible, cancerous growth the armies spread from world to world, from star system to star system, corrupting and destroying everything in their path. It is at these times that the Imperium is hardest pressed, when the Space Marines, Imperial Guard and Titan Legions must fight together with all their strength and are counted among the fortunate merely to survive the terrifying onslaught. Nurgle is the eternal enemy of the Chaos power Tzeentch, the Lord of Change. Nurgle and Tzeentch draw their energy from opposing beliefs. While the energy of Tzeentch comes from hope and changing fortune, that of Nurgle comes from defiance born of despair and hopelessness. The two Great Powers never lose an opportunity to pit their forces against each other, from mighty battles on the Chaos Wastes, to complex political intrigues among mortal men. - Realms of Chaos: The Lost and the Damned ...Thus happiness and human endeavour are sired by a coming to terms with decay and futility. This realisation is the key to understanding the Great Lord of Decay and his worshippers. Once we comprehend what it is that the Chaos Power Nurgle embodies, it becomes easier to understand what might otherwise seem a contradictory or even perverse nature. On the one hand he is the Lord of Decay, his body wracked with disease; on the other, he is full of unexpected energy and a desire to organize and enlighten. The living know they will die, and many know that they will live with disease or other torment, yet they drive this knowledge into a corner of their minds and keep it pinioned there with all manner of dreams and activity. Nurgle is the embodiment of that knowledge and of the unconscious response to it, of the hidden fear of disease and decay, and of the power of life which that fear generates. Nurgle is the eternal enemy of the Chaos Power Tzeentch. Nurgle and Tzeentch draw their energy from opposing beliefs. Whereas the energy of Tzeentch comes from hope and changing fortune, that of Nurgle comes from defiance of born of despair and hopelessness. The two Great Powers never lose an opportunity to pit their forces against each other. The Carnival of Death

The space inside the wagon was cavernous out of all proportion to its tiny exterior size. The cacophonies that filled it were indescribable; the squealing, screaming, chattering and bickering of the Nurglings was beyond mere human imagining. A million unruly school children left to their own devices could not begin to rival the anarchy or intensity of that daemonic din. The grating drones of the Plague bearers all counting at once produced a sound so bass and penetrating that it made the vital organs of every daemon vibrate and quiver in time with its beat. Then there were the indescribable noises, the creaks and groans, the little pops of bursting pustules, the sloppering sticky noises of the frantically affectionate Beasts, and other sounds which were impossible to ascribe to any one source in particular. Amidst it all, waving his arms, the Great Unclean One was trying to make himself heard. "Ahh Gentlecreatures, children, pretties... lend your ears to your loving Father, cease thy aimless chatter, banish thy banal burbling..." It was quite useless, the noise continued apace, the squeals and laughter reaching a new crescendo. The Great Unclean One appeared for a moment to be hurt by his fellow daemon's rudeness. "SHUT UP," he bellowed. The noise stopped instantly, not even the beat of little daemonic hearts or drip of tiny daemonic noses could be heard. The brow of every Plague bearer furrowed in concentration as each tried desperately to remember the last number he thought of. The Great Unclean Once quickly regained his composure, for he was used to such things. "Gentle creatures our pretties... now is the time to sing the songs of fate, for the moment has come for the Dance of Death!" Father Nurgle settled his great mass down among the supporting heap of his smallest minions. Those lucky enough to escape being crushed by their master's bulk squealed delightedly as they snuggled into the damp warmth of his flesh. Nurgle reclined comfortably and his corpulent face assumed an air of triumphant expectancy. Nurgle gave a dignified nod to one of the Plague bearers. Excitedly, the daemon began to beat its drum, slowly and rhythmically at first, and gradually faster and faster as it became carried away by the sense of occasion. All of his servants applauded, and Nurgle acknowledged them with a smile and regal wave of his festering paw. It was the prelude to battle that excited the daemons, drawing squeals of anticipation from the tumbling little Nurglings. This time the cavalcade was to be joined by others: Champions of Nurgle and their mortal warbands, who were also going to take part in the great war. the Beasts bounded and fussed in their eagerness to welcome the mortals, causing considerable disarray and the odd casualty amongst the serried ranks of warriors. The warbands flocked to the sound of the drum. They came in carts and wagons like those of Nurgle's own cavalcade, marched into camp, or simply distilled from the surrounding woods like shadows at sunset. Some of the most severely mutated of them wore bright carnival masks and voluminous robes, completely failing to hide their unique disfigurements if that was in fact their purpose. The Plague bearers carefully recorded the name of each Champion as he arrived, announcing his titles as loudly as they were able among the rising laughter and squeaking chatter. The show pleased Father Nurgle immensely: the busy carts with their tinkling bells, the gaily-coloured masks and carefully decorated palanquins bearing various daemons or Champions. He sighed with satisfaction and patted the little Nurgling that had crawled into the crook of his arm and settled there. Slaanesh - Lord of Pleasure Slaanesh is the Lord of Pleasure whose followers abandon all self-restraint and inhibition to embrace the countless possibilities of mind and flesh. Slaanesh is neither male nor female, but a disturbingly beautiful amalgam of the two. It is said that any mortal who gazes upon the image of Slaanesh will become enslaved by the god's beauty and willingly obey the Lord of Pleasure's

slightest whim. The very touch of the god's breath overwhelms mortal senses with the scent of delight, melting the resolve of the toughest warrior and submerging his mind in waves of pure pleasure. The slightest purr of the god's voice is enough to stimulate the senses into eternal and blissful oblivion. To the followers of Slaanesh the mortal world is grey and insipid compared to the sensual paradise of their master's affection. Slaanesh is the Lord of Pleasure, the Power of Chaos dedicated to the pursuit of hedonistic pleasures and the overthrow of all codes of decent behaviour. He reigns in a vast and luxurious palace in the void, where favoured followers litter the floors, indulging themselves in all forms of perverse pleasures of the flesh. Slaanesh takes the form of a bisexual humanoid, male on the left side and female on the right, with an unearthly, unnatural and almost disturbing beauty. Two pairs of horns rise from his flowing golden hair, and he dresses in a mail shirt fringed with velvet. His right hand holds the magical jade sceptre which is his greatest treasure. The symbol of Slaanesh combines the conventional symbols for male and female, although it is seldom worn openly by his followers. In its place they often wear items of jewellery bearing erotic motifs. Followers dress in robes which are often opened to leave the right side of the chest uncovered, a requirement of many of the rituals involved in his worship. Pastel and electric shades are the chief colours, although white is often used as well. These colours are also sometimes carried over into everyday wear, although they may be modified to fit in with current fashions. Regardless of any considerations, all Slaanesh followers wear garb of sensuously high quality. Six is regarded as the number of Slaanesh, and this is reflected in many small and large things by his followers. Slaanesh has a neutral attitude to many of the gods of Chaos, and is generally too caught up in his own pleasures to be interested in alliances and co-operation. Particular enemies are the followers of Khorne, whose belief in pain and death is completely opposed to Slaanesh's principle of a life of unrestricted pleasure. Followers of Nurgle and Tzeentch are subject to Slaanesh's usual neutral attitude. - Realms of Chaos: Slaves to Darkness The Marcher Fortress There, the lands of Slaanesh stretched out below it, was a Fortress of whimsies and foibles. It was an unlovely thing, stained by war and victory. Its towers, higher than any palace, wounded the sky. Its gateways were gaping maws that could swallow and vomit forth whole armies. Its walls were darkened stone, veined in unnatural colours and streaked with rotted lime and mortar. Here, at the Marches of Slaanesh, was the Fortress, a sign of sovereignty, hated and condemned by Khornes bloody-handed worshippers. Before the Fortress gates stretched a forest of death. From the walls to the near horizon was the dismal wrack of battle: corpses, the rusted swords and armour of the fallen, the standards of Slaanesh and Khorne, all abandoned and forgotten long centuries ago. The graves of the fallen had become a rich loom, sucked upon by the trees of a dark forest. Pierced by tree roots, the dead had stirred once more, and each branch bore a skull, mildewed and pregnant with loathing, a macabre and cruel cargo. Only the ceaseless, horrendous laughter of the trapped souls disturbed the field. Their fleshless jaws clattered in the still air; the only reply the creaking of a windmills sails and the grinding of its stones. For in the shadow of the castle a windmill turned, its sails moving in the chill air, and their unclean breeze stirred the tattered flags of the dead. Within, the grindstones shuddered and groaned, while between, pinioned and crushed, were the living corpses of the fallen, ground to make a rich mortar of blood and bone, sinew and brains. Thus was the Fortress maintained and strengthened, its walls held aloft and marked by the power of mortality. Thus was the field before it harvested. And in the castles mighty halls, its Daemon overlords feasted and broke bread, in conscious parody of Mans small amenities. All this I saw in an instant, and then my vision was swept

onwards - Liber Malefic, The Book of Chaos Foreseen, Marius Hollseher -

Lesser Chaos Gods

Malal "Listen now to my tune: ah, how my flute sings! Heed my call mortals, and so not think of the thing that waits you in the shadows where my siren's call lures you. Come men, come rats, come the creatures of the dark. Hear not the cries of those who have gone before you, see not the brink of the abyss where your dancing steps take you." - Unattributed (?) There is a name whispered quietly and with fear even by the most depraved, the mot evil, the least sane of the worshippers of Chaos. That name is Malal the Renegade God of Chaos. Any man who dare look within the unholy black pages of The Great Book of Despair, that foul tome held sacred by worshippers of Chaos, would find the following words. General: Malal is a renegade Chaos God, who has turned against the others and is dedicated to their destruction. His followers, sometimes called the Doomed Ones, seek out and destroy the followers of other Chaos Gods wherever they may be found. Malal is the Lost God, the Power of Chaos that represents Chaos' indiscriminate tendency toward destruction, even of itself. His dark temple is bleak and stark, compared to the edifices of the other Chaos deities. Witchfires burn at seemingly random places around his hall, and glimpses of futures that might be flicker within them. One long hall is dedicated to trophies collected. A Bloodthirster rages against the spikes driven into it's limbs, nailing it to the wall. A plucked Lord of Change lies curled up in a very small cage, it's bared flesh covered in welts. A Keeper of secrets floats blinded and deafened, denied any sensation whatsoever. And dozens of champions all displayed, important, cut off from their gods. Tally keepers scurry through the darkened hall, inscribing the fate of those on display, and placing the newly arrived. Malal loves using trickery to cause the other Chaos Gods to lash out against each other. A spell here, a broken vial there, a strip of fabric, an uprising, or a single word. These are the tools that Malal uses in his plot to undermine and destroy the Chaos Gods. Malal's powers come from the struggle of a single (relatively) powerless figure trying to fight a larger oppressor. Every slave that plots against his master, every worker that hates his boss, every peasant who looks with anger upon the places of the rich, every man who cries out to the uncaring gods about his placement in life feeds more power to Malal. Malal is usually depicted as a towering humanoid with wolf like and crocodilian features. His hands have six fingers apiece. Three eyes look out from his head. A horde of teeth, Lion-like, Shark-like, Cow-like, and Rat-like, jut from his jaws. Symbol: The symbol of Malal is a skull, bisected down the middle, one half white, the other black. This can vary from very stylised, to very naturalistic or even bestial. His followers favour black and white, especially bisected patterning. The number eleven is associated with Malal. Worship: Malal is not a god of warriors, nor of wizards, the decadent, or the desperate. He is the god that the lower classes turn to avenge themselves on the higher classes who attempt to strangle and stop them from their true glory. He is also the god of those who have been wronged, but lack the power to correct this. His followers come from people whose hatred of Chaos becomes so

strong, that they willingly bond with Chaos to fight it at it's own level. Many an overzealous official or priest has lost his soul to Chaos when he allowed his hatred to blind him to the price he was paying. Friends & Enemies: Followers of Malal generally loners; the very burning hatred of Chaos that possesses all followers of Malal makes them hate all followers of Chaos powers, even other followers of Malal! Rarely, a leader comes along who can knit together a band of Malalites for the mutual need. At these times, the mortal followers of the other Chaos gods know fear, for a lone champion of Malal is to be feared, a group of them acting together is truly horrific! Toward other mortal organizations, followers of Malal are more neutral, but defiantly not benign. Malal is a Chaos God after all! However, the feeling is not necessarily reciprocal. Consequently, followers of Malal usually act alone and in secret. However, they have no problem tipping the authorities off to the location or existence of rival Chaos groups. Many tips to the Arbites, Inquisition, Witch Hunters, and Royalty has come from a whisper in the dark, a mysterious note, or a fortunate accident. Malal's followers try to not interfere with these organizations, either. "The enemy of my enemy..." as the old saying goes. Many of these type of organizations know of Malal, as well. For the most part, they don't trust followers of Malal, but they are content to let the monsters eat the monsters, and hopefully wipe each other out in the process. Cult Requirements & Tenets: Malal requires only one thing from his followers. Complete dedication, above all other things, to the destruction of the forces of Chaos. Many times after a Chaos horde has rampaged through an area, the survivors, blinded by hatred and grief, pledge themselves to Malal. Malal is much more active in his (relatively) small following then the other Chaos gods. Consequently, many of his champions have held audiences with him personally. He is even known to have manifested and intervened for particularly important tasks and minions. Malal's followers are few, but very powerful! "...and he that went before now came last, and that which was white and black and all direction was thrown against itself. Grown mightily indignant at the words of the Gods, Malal did turn his heart against them and flee into the chambers of space . . . And no man looked to Malal then, save those that serve that which they hate, who smile upon their misfortune, and who bear no love save for the damned. At such times as a warrior's heart turns to Malal, all Gods of Chaos grow fearful, and the laughter of the Outcast God fills the tomb of space . . . "

THE FORCES OF CHAOS

"Being a Delineation of such Scions of Darkness as assail the Realms of Man and their malefic Armaments, and further more Illuminations of said Abominations detailing the hues and Forms of Chaos, such Disputation being by its very Nature limited to finite Examples of this most Universal of Scourges." The Eye of Terror is the focal point of Chaos in the galaxy. Its countless worlds provide the bases from which armies and raiders attack the rest of the galaxy. The Imperium lives in fear that the forces of Chaos will unite into a huge army of conquest and pour into human space, destroying and taking over human planets. This has never happened because the various Chaos worlds don't form a united empire but comprise countless independent realms ruled by rival Chaos Powers and

Daemon Princes. The different Daemon Princes and other daemonic rulers regard their neighbours as rivals, even though they all share a common master. When the rival forces of Chaos do decide to act in concert they pose a potentially dangerous threat to the Imperium, the Squat Homeworld, Orks, Eldar and all other intelligent life forms in the galaxy. Fortunately, alliances between different daemon rulers ten to be fragile arrangements which often fall apart even before their target is reached. Once they have captured the odd planet their natural tendencies to squabble over the spoils almost invariable dissipates the their forces and brings their reign of terror to a close. This disunity is particularly noticeable where the forces of several powers are involved in a common enterprise. Only when Chaos raiders are led by a single extremely powerful leader are they really dangerous. Fortunately for the Imperium, it is rare that a leader of sufficient calibre emerges. Almost invariably the impetus of each fresh attack is quickly spend, so that human forces can take advantage of their enemy's disunity to make good their initial losses. The armed forces of Chaos come in many unexpected guises but for the most part can be divided into three types. The most deadly of all are the foul daemons themselves. There are countless daemons of a myriad abhorrent shapes, each the spawn of the nightmarish terrors and secret pleasures of mortal creatures. But just as there are common vices and passions amongst mortals, so there are corresponding daemons - themselves mere conscious parts of the far greater Gods of Chaos. The four most mighty Chaos Gods are Khorne the Blood God, the master of battle and patron of mighty warriors; Nurgle the Great Lord of Decay, the bringer of plague and physical corruption; Slaanesh the Lord of Pleasure, the purveyor of secret vices; and Tzeentch the Changer of the Ways, the Lord of Change. It is these four Dark Gods who vie for the dominion of mankind, and whose daemons seek gateways through the minds of the weak and careless. There are other daemons too, a vast and impenetrable array, but the daemons of the four Great Powers are by far the most dangerous. Fortunately for mankind daemons cannot exist except where the material universe has already started to break down, for daemons need the presence of the warp to survive and the more powerful the daemon the more energy it requires to manifest itself. Daemons are the most dangerous of all Chaos creatures, but at least daemonic incursions are rare events - rare enough to be hushed up by the Inquisition to prevent panic. More of a real threat are the constant raids of the Chaos Space Marine Legions. Ten thousand years ago during the galaxy-shattering wars of the Horus Heresy fully half the Space Marine armies of that time became corrupted by Chaos and rebelled against the Emperor. Led by Warmaster Horus, the Legions of Chaos almost succeeded in wrestling control of the galaxy from the Emperor. They did not succeed, but the wounds the Emperor suffered in combat against the Warmaster drove him to the Golden Throne and ended his waking life. With the defeat of the Legions of Chaos the vanquished Space Marines fled into the Eye of Terror. There, close to the intense energies of the warp, they took worlds for their own, becoming the lords and masters of daemon realms under the patronage of their chosen gods. From these infernal regions the Chaos Space Marines continue to launch their wars of vengeance against the Imperium. Within their warped realms time has been abolished, so that the very same Space Marine warriors who fought against the Emperor ten thousand years ago live on to make war against the Imperium today. For them the strands of time have become interwoven so that the past, present and future are as one eternal battle. The threat of the Chaos Space Marine Legions is the most tangible of the perils of Chaos, but there are other threats less easy to recognise but just as deadly. On every world in every city there are malcontents who lust for power beyond their means, whose avarice is insatiable by honest endeavour, and who would take any path to satisfy their ambition. Such minds are easy prey to the temptations of Chaos. Although a Primal Heresy throughout the Imperium there are thousands, maybe millions, of Chaos cults, all gathering their strength and extending their influence. In deep sewers hooded figures meet to worship the Dark Gods, and mages summon daemons to do their bidding. There can be no greater delusion than that of fools who seek an easy road to power, yet

they can bring ruin upon an entire world.

The Traitor Legions

The filth of their visage is nothing to the filth in their hearts Inquisitor Vandis on the Traitor Legions The Traitor Legionnaires were once First Founding Space Marines, the most exceptional humans of their Age. Corrupted by Chaos as they are, they have retained much of their Marine heritage, which makes them the most deadly opponents that Marine Chapters are likely to encounter. Even after ten thousand years of Chaos, the basic profiles of the Traitor Legionnaires are still recognizable as those of Space Marines. Their service to Chaos has, as often as not, strengthened them and taken them to even greater heights of combat excellence. The Legions have also retained much of their Marine heritage in weapons and equipment. For many the Bolter, no matter how baroque its design has become, is still the main weapon. Knives, blades and combat accessories of all types are also employed. Magical swords, imbued with the power of Chaos, or Daemon Weapons are marks of a Powers great favour. They are extremely rare, and the bearer of such a weapon is regarded as specially chosen or honoured. Over the millennia the original design for Marine armour in the Legions has developed and changed in strange ways. It still functions as well as it ever did, rivalling the best-powered armour of the true Adeptus. Each suit still includes auto-senses, a communicator and a respirator. Intricate, grotesque decoration and gothic flamboyance have become the hallmarks of the Traitor Legions. Each Legionnaires armour varies from that of his fellows in some small detail, producing a macabre variety and perverse uniformity in each Legion. In this the Legionnaires powered armour apes and echoes the Chaos Armour of the Daemon allies and their highest, most favoured officers. Suits of powered armour have lasted over the centuries, and these are still used by the surviving original Traitor Legionnaires. With only minor modifications and replacements, these suits are standard Adeptus Astartes issue. The original chapter colours of the Traitor Legions have, in most cases, long since vanished; all armour is painted and decorated in the colours of the Legions Chaos Power. Each Legion has its own colours and badges. The Legions loyalty to Chaos has produced an overall uniformity of appearance, although often individuals decorate their armour and uniform to show their personal devotion to the Legions Chaos Power. The retention of Marine organization means that the ancient badges of rank are still used in some cases. Sergeants are marked by stripes of office; long service studs are still awarded and the like. However, few of the original Traitors who fought in the Horus Heresy chose to wear service studs for all ten thousand years of their exile. Often only the intricacy of a Legionnaires armour serves to indicate his rank. Another sure indication of high status and rank within the Legion is the wearing of Chaos Armour or the carrying of a Daemon Weapon of some kind. During the terrible long wars of the Horus Heresy fully half the ancient Space Marine Legions joined the Warmaster Horus in his bid to wrest control of the Imperium from the Emperor. After many bloody battles the Warmaster's true loyalties were revealed, and it became known to all that he had sold his soul to the Dark Gods of Chaos in return for undreamed of power. It was too late for the Space Marine Legions that had allied themselves with Horus - their souls were pledged to Chaos and for them there was no hope of forgiveness. Corruption and evil had corrupted their minds, gnawing at their unworthy ambitions, and turning them into the Emperor's most bitter foes. After the defeat of Horus the Chaos Space Marine Legions sought unholy refuge in the Eye of Terror, where they remain to this day. Of the surviving Legions of Chaos Space Marines the four which have found the especial favour of their patron gods are the World Eaters of Khorne, the Emperor's Children of Slaanesh, the Death Guard of Nurgle and the Thousand Sons of Tzeentch. It is these foul Legions that most trouble the

Imperium with their incessant raiding and wanton destruction. In the time of the Horus Heresy, nearly half of the Space Marine Legions deserted the Emperor to follow Warmaster Horus. Nine of the twenty Legions that were in existence at that time rebelled and became the Traitor Legions. Each of the Traitor Legions has its own unique character and fighting style, but they are all united in their hatred of the Imperium and their thirst for revenge for the defeat they suffered ten millennia ago. For ten thousand years we have fought the Long War and our hatred still knows no succour. Thos who have defied us shall feel the full wrath of Chaos - Death To The False Emperor, Death To The Weakling Imperium Of Man Anon Although we divide Chaos Space Marine characters into Champions, Sorcerers and Lords for convenience, all of these characters are termed Chaos Champions Chaos Space Marine Champions may dedicate themselves uniquely to one Chaos God if they desire. These Chaos Champions are the agents of their masters, and the fiendish acts they carry out in the names of the Gods of Chaos are rewarded with gifts of power. As a Champion gains favour in the eyes of his Chaos God he becomes more powerful. Often there is a terrible price to pay, for the Gods of Chaos are whimsical and uncaring beings, whose gifts sometimes bring gross physical mutation and deformity. Horns, wildly discoloured flesh, distorted limbs, cloven hoofs and other, stranger, mutations are all too common amongst the Champions of Chaos who bravely bear their disfigurements as symbols of their divine favour. To represent the gifts bestowed on a Chaos Champion you are allowed to buy Marks of Chaos for the Chaos Space Marine characters in your army, for the points cost indicated in the army lists. With the exception of a Chaos Lord, each model is only allowed one Mark of Chaos. Chaos Lords may have one or more Marks of Chaos, and can even bear the Marks of all four Chaos Gods if desired. Horus is the most infamous example of such a Chaos Lord, being favoured by all four of the Chaos Gods at one time or another. Nurgle Champions bearing the Mark of Nurgle are swollen with corruption, their armour barely containing their bloated bodies. Because their bodies are dulled with disease and partly rotted away they feel little pain and can endure considerable injury without discomfort. A Chaos Champion of Nurgle always adds an extra +1 to his Toughness on account of his hugely bloated body. Tzeentch Tzeentch is the master of arcane lore and Champions bearing his Mark are almost always gifted with dark powers of sorcery. In addition, the warp flows through them and its aura protects them and wards away hostile psychic attacks. If a Chaos Champion of Tzeentch is targeted or is caught in the area of a psychic attack the he may successfully nullify it by rolling 4+ on a D6. If he is successful the psychic attack does not work and causes no harm. Slaanesh Slaanesh is the sensual Lord of Pleasure. Chaos Champions bearing his mark live on the edge of excitement and experience, revelling in the joy of life and battle. They take a perverse pleasure in all experience, no matter how terrifying or bizarre, and are therefore not affected by the normal psychology rules. This means that they are immune to fear and terror, for example. In addition, they need never take a break test, as death holds no fear for them, but is seen as a welcome consummation of experience. If a Champion is with a unit that is forced to flee he is not affected and can continue to fight as normal. Khorne Champions that bear the Mark of the God Khorne are savage fighters whose armour grows to be part of their bodies so they can never remove it. This Chaos armour gives the Chaos Champion an armour saving throw of 2+. In addition, Champions of Khorne are affected by the rules for frenzy as described in the Warhammer 40,000 rulebook. Such is the skill of these warriors in close

combat that they are still allowed to parry even when frenzied. They are awesome warriors who revel in their role as the sacred destroyers of the Blood God. Chaos Space Marines During the terrible long wars of the Horus Heresy fully half the ancient Space Marine Legions joined the Warmaster Horus in his bid to wrest control of the Imperium from the Emperor. After many bloody battles the Warmaster's true loyalties were revealed, and it became known that he had sold his soul to the Dark Gods in return for undreamed of power. It was too late for the Space Marine Legions that had allied themselves with Horus - their souls were pledged to Chaos and there was no hope of forgiveness. Corruption and evil had subverted their minds, gnawing a their unworthy ambitions, and turning them into the Emperor's most bitter foes. After the defeat of Horus the Chaos Space Marine Legions sought unholy refuge in the Eye of Terror, where they remain to this day. I can taste your fears human, it is a tangible thing. I can run my fingers over it and drink deeply of its sickly aroma. If this terror is the food of hatred, let me feast upon it and in the feasting, destroy you utterly. Anon Chaos Space Marine Veterans Not all veteran Chaos Space Marines wear Terminator armour and many fight in squads wearing normal power armour. Veterans are hard-bitten, callous and deadly fighters who will think nothing of gunning down an enemy that has surrendered or killing innocent women and children. Decades, sometimes even centuries, of combat experience have taught them how to make the best use of cover to survive in on the war-torn battlefields of the 41st millennia. These highly experienced and ferocious warriors are typically the vanguard of any attack, using their battle skills to infiltrate the enemy lines and set up ambushes or launch surprise attacks on enemy strong points. Chaos Space Marine Sorcerers A Chaos Space Marine Librarian who pledges his soul to Chaos becomes a Chaos Space Marine Sorcerer, and is gifted with new psychic powers by his patron god. It is not inappropriate to think of these powers as magical, for those who receive them come to think of themselves as Sorcerers with the unseen energy of the universe at their command. Many Chaos Space Marine Sorcerers come from the Thousand Sons Space Marine Legion. Even before the Heresy the Thousand Sons became involved with arcane lore and the practice of sorcery, and once the Heresy began they had little choice but to ally with the Warmaster, as the Emperor could no longer tolerate their study of magic with all its associations with the warp. The Thousand Sons survived the aftermath of the Horus Heresy by using their sorcerous powers to open a gateway to the Eye of Terror through which they escaped. Many of them continue their study of magic and have become mighty Sorcerer-Champions of Tzeentch. During the Heresy Librarians in the other Traitor Legions dedicated themselves to a patron Chaos God and also received new psychic powers in return. The only exception were the Librarians of the Worldeaters Legion, who were hunted down and slain by their Brother Marines as a bloody sacrifice to their lord Khorne, for the Chaos God of war hates all practitioners of the sorcerous arts. Chaos Space Marine Terminators Many veteran Chaos Space Marines enter battle wearing suit of the revered and rightly feared tactical Dreadnought armour or Terminator armour, as it is more commonly known. The armour is massively bulky and contains a full exo-skeleton arrangement of fibre bundles and adamantium rods to support the heavy gauge plasteel and ceramite plates that form the outer carapace. A wearer of Terminator armour can move and operate with remarkable freedom and agility considering the sheer mass of the actual armour. A Chaos Space Marine wearing Terminator armour usually holds a ranged weapon in his right hand, typically a combi-weapon of some type, while the left hand wields a chain-axe. This

combination of devastating anti-personnel fire power and close quarters punch certainly makes a Chaos Space Marine equipped with Terminator armour a highly respectable opponent. Some Chaos Space Marine Terminators carry heavier and more powerful weapons to provide supporting fire for their comrades Thousand Son Marines When the Thousand Sons escaped to the Eye of Terror the warping effects of Chaos began to take effect, and soon the signs of physical mutation began to corrupt them. Ahriman, one of the greatest of all the Thousand Sons Chaos Sorcerers, attempted to halt this process of degeneration by unleashing an immensely potent spell called the Rubic of Ahriman, which was meant to affect all of the Thousand Sons, shielding them from the harmful effects of Chaos forever. The Chaos Sorcerers of the Thousand Sons had either survived and had their knowledge and powers greatly augmented or they had been utterly destroyed, but their battle brethren whose psychic powers had been slight or non-existent had been changed. Their armour was sealed shut as if every clasp and joint had been welded together. Inside the heavy shell of ceramite and adamantium the physical bodies of the Chaos Space Marines had been reduced to a handful of dust but their spirits remained, trapped inside their battle armour for all eternity. Although these living suits of armour still move and function, they are little more than robots, and quickly fall into inactivity unless a Thousand Sons Chaos Sorcerer is nearby to guide and direct them Khorne Berzerkers Khorne Berzerkers are Chaos Space Marines who have dedicated themselves to the Chaos God Khorne. Most famous of all Khorne Berzerkers are the Space Marines of the Worldeaters, but they are joined by followers of the Blood God drawn from all of the Traitor Legions. The link between bloodshed and pleasure has become so strong for these followers of Khorne that they are virtually uncontrollable either on or off the battlefield. Khorne Berzerkers are savage fighters who revel in the bloodiest hand-to-hand combats. In their eagerness to offer blood and skulls to Khorne they carry many vicious close combat weapons into battle. Often they wield an axe - or the deadly chain-axe - as these are the preferred weapons of the Blood God, although the chainsword is almost equally favoured. Khorne Berzerkers relish their role as the sacred destroyers of Khorne the Blood God and are fanatical in the extreme. Their delight in death and pain is so strong that they have been known to fall on their own chainswords as sacrifices to the Blood God. Plague Marines Plague Marines are Chaos Space Marines who have dedicated themselves to the Chaos God Nurgle. Amongst the most dedicated followers of this cult are the Chaos Space Marines of the Death Guard, but many other Chaos Space Marines also dedicate themselves to the Lord of Decay. Plague Marines have disgusting rotted bodies that stink of decay. Their armour and weapons are pitted and corroded by the putrescent slime that oozes from their many sores, but they are still fearsome opponents. Their decaying brains are innured to the agony of bodily corruption, making them all but immune to any pain or discomfort caused by battle wounds. Noise Marines Noise marines are Chaos Space Marines who have dedicated themselves to the Chaos God Slaanesh. A Noise Marine's hearing is a thousand times keener than a normal person's and can distinguish the subtlest difference in pitch and volume. This affects the Noise Marine's brain, causing extreme emotional reactions that make all other sensations seem pale and worthless. The louder and more discordant the noise the more extreme the emotion reaction provoked, until only the din of battle and the screams of the enemy can stir the Noise Marine. His mind ceases to function and becomes a mere receptacle for the sensations ignited by the music of the apocalypse and the screams of the dying as they dance upon the path to destruction! Noise Marines wear power armour painted in a variety of bold colours, as the Noise Marines' senses are so distorted that only the most extravagant colours and patterns register on their minds. They are armed with a variety of outlandish weapons that produce deafening loud and

pyrotechnically explosive attacks. Planets do exist in the Eye of Terror, though they are nothing like those which appear in the material universe. The worlds in the Eye of Terror are self-contained universes where the laws of time and space depend on the whims of the Daemon Princes that rule over them: where skies of fire light lakes of boiling blood, and a thousand other unimaginable perversions of naute flash into existence and pass away each day. Upon one such world, ruled over by a great Daemon prince whose name is represented only by a scream of utter abandon, stands the colossal fortress of the Noise Marines. This bizarre and unique fellowship of Space Marines honour Slannesh the Lord of Pleasure. They scour the galaxy, bringing death and destruction to all, squeezing each planet dry and throwing is aside before moving onto the next succulent prize, never stopping to measure the loss of blood. The Noise Marines were once loyal Space Marines sent to battle a distant threat, not well understood at the time, but which proved to be nothing less than the advancing hordes of Slannesh, Lord of pleasure and great Power of Chaos. They were not killed on that long forgotten battlefield, but suffered a fate much worse- they were horribly altered by the mutating power of Chaos. Their Space Marine senses, already honed by careful genetic engineering, were worked on by further magic, overturning the Imperium's work and creating a new creature known as the Noise Marine. A Noise Marine's hearing is a thousands times keener than a normal Space Marine's and can distinguish between the subtlest differences in pitch and volume. In itself, this ability would not serve to corrupt such a steadfast servant of humanity as a Space Marine, but the Noise Marine's sense of sound affects his whole mind, causing extreme emotional reactions that make all other sensations seem pale and worthless. The louder and more discordant the noise the more extreme the emotional reaction provoked, and the more tawdry and vile the everyday sensation of life. Eventually only the sin of battle and heightened screams of fear can stir the Noise Marine. His mind ceases to reason and becomes a mere receptacle ignited by the music of the apocalypse and the screams of the dying as they dance upon the path of destruction. Noise Marines wear Space Marine type power armour with a crested helmet. The armour is painted in a bold colour or style, as the Noise Marines senses are so distorted that only by their mutation that only the most extravagant colours and patterns register on their minds. The weapon carried by the Noise Marines is the Sonic Blaster, a device that can unleash destructive sound waves capable of tearing solid objects apart. The Sonic Blaster can be used in such a way that its harmonic frequencies interfere directly with the nervous systems of living creatures, causing them to lose control over their bodies as their muscles go into violent spasm. The destructive effects of the Sonic Blaster depends upon the skill of the Noise Marine using it, as the weapon is played as an instrument rather than simply fired. In the hands of a Master a single discordant blast at high volume causes massive sensory overload and a violent death as the target explodes into a thousand fragments. We're so loud you wanna die Go forth and amplify Here come the Noise Marines Lyrics by D-Rock, from the album "oblivion" 1991 Warhammer Records Ltd Rules (Rouge Trader/1st edition Warhammer 40k) --------------------------------------The Eye of Terror is a region of space cut off by warp storms, wreathed in dust clouds, cloaked in mystery and danger. While it lies inside Imperial Space, it is not part of the Imperium. It is a desolate volume of space - the small number of systems to be found within the Eye have few habitable planets. However, its isolation from the Imperium is due to another cause. The Eye of Terror is home to the Imperiums oldest enemies and greatest rebels: the Traitor Legions.

Banished from the Imperium, the Traitor Legions are the remnants of nine Marine Chapters from the First Founding. Deep inside the Eye, beyond the range of even the most sensitive psyker, the Traitor Legions made planet fall. There they have remained to the current day, a threat to the Imperium and to the natural order of the universe. From their fastness within the Eye of Terror, the Traitor Legions emerge in force, falling upon Imperial worlds, rekindling the fear and despair of the Horus Heresy. The Death Guard During the Horus Heresy, the Death Guard joined Warmaster Horus in many battles and raids on the Imperium. When Horus led his forces against Earth and the Emperor, the Death Guard became lost in the Warp. While they were trapped in the Warp, a strange and deadly infection started to spread amongst the Legion, spreading from ship to ship. The stinking pestilence flooded the gut and distended the flesh and rotted its victims from the inside out. Even the Legion's Primarch, Mortarion, became infected, and in his delirium he called upon the powers of Chaos to aid the Space Marines. His fevered ravings were answered by Nurgle, and he became Nurgle's champion. After Horus's defeat, Mortarion led his Death Guard in a campaign of destruction over a score of planets, until finally retreating into the Eye of Terror. Here he received Nurgle's ultimate reward, and became a full-fledged Daemon Prince, ruling over one of Nurgle's greatest Plague Worlds in the Eye of Terror. Mortarion sends out fleets of Plague Ships into the Warp to carry their contagions throughout the galaxy. The Death Guard Legion was one of the original twenty Space Marine Legions founded by the Emperor. During the Horus Heresy the Legion joined the rebel Warmaster Horus and took part in many battles against the Emperor's forces. When Horus led his attack on the Emperor, the revel Death Guard Legion was marooned in the warp while attempting the long journey to Earth. Days passed while the fleet's Navigators searched for a warp-tide that would bring them back to the material universe. Meanwhile a mysterious contagion began to spread from ship to ship. The stinking pestilence bloated the gut, distended the flesh, and turned its victims rotten from the inside. Eventually, even the Legion's Primarch, Mortarion, became infected and in his delirium he called upon the Powers of Chaos to aid the Space Marines. Mortarion's fevered ravings were answered by Nurgle, and Mortarion became Nurgle's Champion. The Death Guard, newly dedicated to Nurgle, arrived in time to take part in Horus's attack on Earth and took part in all of the major battles of the campaign. As disease began to disfigure the Death Guard, their appearance changed into the disgusting form the still bear today, and the once tall and noble Space Marines of the Death Guard became Plague Marines of Nurgle. Of all the Chaos Space Marines, Plague Marines are the most physically horrible to look upon. Their flesh pulses with corruption, their innards spill through lesions in their putrid skin, and their bodies ooze with sticky slime. The sheer stench their rotting bodies exude fills the air around them with the sickly sweet scent of death for hundreds of yards in every direction. The sight of living creatures so foul is an abomination to nature, and of all the Plague Marines, those of the Death Guard are the most foul and disgusting, the most corpulent and corrupt. Following Horus's defeat, Mortarion led his Death Guard in a merry dance of destruction over a score of planets until finally retreating with the remnants of the Legion into the Eye of Terror. Here he received Nurgle's ultimate reward and became a fully-fledged Daemon Price ruling over one of Nurgle's greatest Plague Worlds in the Eye of Terror. The Plague Planet Mortarion rules over lies deep inside the Eye of Terror. From this dark and slimy orb Mortarion launches fleets of plague ships into the warp to carry their contagion throughout the galaxy. On board are Champions of Chaos and their followers from the Plague Planet accompanied by warriors of the ancient Death Guard, the heinous Plague Marines of Nurgle. The Plague Planet itself is a place where sickness and pestilence are the norm, where miasma clouds bring contagion and death and where the diseased pray to Nurgle for relief from their constant agony. Some of them are favoured and become Champions, and then fight among themselves for mastery and the chance to become daemon princes in their own right. The Plague

Marines rarely interfere in the battles between rising Champions. In fact they are not commonly seen by the worlds inhabitants except during the time when new Champions are selected and enter the ranks of the Plague Marines. Most of their time is spent attending on Mortarion or carrying out his wishes, spreading new diseases and travelling to other worlds to carry Nurgle's plagues to new victims. Spreading like a living tide of corruption and decay, the followers of the Chaos God Nurgle attack the Imperium from the Eye of Terror. Among the hideous machines they send to war are the Plague Towers and Contagion Plague Engines, built with the single purpose of spreading suffering and death amongst all who oppose the might of Chaos. Not even the ministrations of advanced technology can entirely eradicate the dangers of disease on long space voyages. A ship traveling between far flung planets always risks contamination by alien viruses or mutated bacteria. Such perils can quickly infect and slay the crew, on incapacitate the ship's Navigator stranding the ship in the warp. The empty husks of Plague Ships drift through the warp, sometimes for thousands of years, until they are drawn to that bosom of pestilence which is the Plague Planet of Mortarion. Here they are gathered into Plague Fleets and filled with the diseased followers of Mortarion before being cast back into the warp to spread their pestilence throughout the galaxy. The Plague Fleets carry followers of Nurgle to inhabitant planets where their destructive raids are inevitably followed by an outbreak of no less destructive contagion. Once the Plague Ships are abandoned or their crews finally destroyed, the hulks float back into the warp where the currents carry them back to the Plague Planet. During the Plague Ships' journey through the warp the insides of the craft erupt with large furry black flies. The burst from every surface, covering the interior of the ship, filling whole rooms with their decaying carcasses. When the ship reaches a new world the Champions and their followers prepare to disembark by landing craft, teleport, or by landing the ship itself. As soon as the ship's hatches are opened a thick black cloud of insects is released, each a tiny bearer of disease ready to spread the foulness of Nurgle over a virgin planet. Even when the Marines disembark by teleported, enough flies are transported to form a dense cloud of choking insects. -From Realms of Chaos: The Lost and the Damned The Word Bearers Even before Horus had been corrupted, Lorgar, Primarch of the Word Bearers, began to worship the gods of Chaos. He revelled in the different aspects of each of the dark powers, dedicating himself to Chaos in its purest form, as Chaos Undivided, and he quickly led the Word Bearers along the same path. The fanatical zeal the Word Bearers had shown in their worship of the Emperor was quickly diverted into equally fanatical devotion toward Chaos. The Word Bearers are the only Chaos Space Marine Legion of the original nine to still have Chaplains, who enforce a strict regime of religious observance upon their Brothers. Word Bearers are zealous in the extreme, marching forward under huge banners dedicated to Chaos in its myriad forms. The World Bearers were the 17th Chapter created in the First Founding. Their armour is red with silver trim. Their homeworld was Colchis before it was destroyed. Lorgar, Primarch of the Word Bearers Legion of Space Marines, was always one of the most scrupulous and dedicated followers of the Imperial Cult. He was sure that his steady, methodical progress during the Great Crusade, as he converted planets to the Imperial Cult with dedicated zeal, would earn him the Emperor's undying gratitude. and elevate him to a pre-eminent position amongst the Primarchs. It was thus a shattering blow when the Emperor instead reprimanded him for his tardiness in carrying out the primary objective of the Great Crusade. The task of the Space Marines was to fight, not to waste time in pointless ritual and monument building. Later Lorgar was to say that this action lifted a veil from his eyes, and he was able to see the

Emperor for what he was: not a God at all, but an irreverent man who had failed to grasp that what humanity needed above anything else was religious guidance in order to make any sense of an otherwise pointless existence. Lorgar's faith in the Imperial Cult was destroyed, but he quickly found a substitute in the terrifying form of the gods of Chaos. Here were truly god-like beings that expected to he worshipped, indeed that yearned for displays of devotion and dedication. So it was that even before Horus had been corrupted, Lorgar began to worship the gods of Chaos. He revelled in the different aspects of each of the Dark Powers, but worshipped no one in preference to another. He dedicated himself to Chaos in its purest form, as Chaos Undivided, and he quickly led the Word Bearers along the same path. The fanatical zeal the Word Bearers had shown in their worship of the Emperor was quickly and easily subverted into equally fanatical devotion to Chaos. By necessity the Word Bearers had to keep their activities secret at first. Secret covens were set up on the planets that the Word Bearers controlled or conquered, who worked insidiously to create cult followings for the Chaos Gods. When the Horus Heresy began the Word Bearers immediately revealed their true nature, and on a thousand worlds the Chaos Cults they had founded erupted into open rebellion. Lorgar and the Word Beaters, freed from the need to keep their worship of Chaos secret, dedicated themselves to worshipping the gods of Chaos. Following the defeat of Horus the Word Bearers retreated to the Eye of terror. From there they continue to spread the word of Chaos. On the worlds they attack the Word Bearers build huge monuments dedicated to their dark gods. and vast cathedrals are erected where the chants and prayers of the faithful mingle with the screams and groans of those being sacrificed on bloody altars dedicated to the Chaos Powers. The Word Bearers are the only Chaos Space Marine Legion to still have Chaplains, who enforce a strict regime of religious observance upon their brethren. All Word Bearers are expected to spend a considerable period of each day in acts or ritual sacrifice, occult study, or decadent worship. in battle the Word Bearers are zealous in the extreme, marching forward tinder huge banners dedicated to Chaos in its myriad forms, reciting catechisms as they fight. and slaying the enemy for their failure to follow the one true path to righteousness! Taken from Codex: Chaos v2 The Night Lords Their Primarch, Konrad Curze, called the Night Haunter, knew only one way, that was the use of vicious force. His methods were simple, vicious and direct, if you broke the law you died, there was no appeal, Night Haunter was judge, jury, and executioner upon the world Nostrama, where he had set himself up as a vigilante against the crime lords of the planet. When the Great Crusade finally reached this dark world, and the Emperor was reunited with this dark-visaged young Primarch, Night Haunter was placed in command of the Night Lords. The Night Lords quickly gained a reputation for ruthless efficiency, and a cynical disregard for human life. As long as they achieved their objectives, the means didn't matter to them. When the Emperor recalled Night Haunter to answer the charges of cruelty and destruction against him and his men, Night Haunter quickly defected to the side of Warmaster Horus. Night Haunter, operating from a planet deep in the wilderness area of space known as the Eastern Fringe, led the Night Lords on a campaign of terror and genocide that has rarely, if ever, been equalled. Even after Horus had been defeated, the Night Lords continued their attacks until finally the Imperial Assassin M'Shen was able to infiltrate Night Haunter's base and slay the Primarch, with this act the Night Lords quickly stopped being an organised threat to the Imperium. The Night Lords now strike from the Eye of Terror, where they have retreated to, and they fight for the pure pleasure of it, and for the material rewards it can bring, and not because they worship some deity. They look down upon the more dedicated Chaos Marines, and Loyal Marines, considering them fools. The Alpha Legion

The Alpha Legion was the twentieth and last legion created in the first founding. Under the critical eye of their Primarch during the Great Crusade the Legion became renowned for its discipline and strict organization. Though the youngest Legion, the Alpha Legion sought to outshine it's brethren in things as if to prove their worthiness amidst the older Legions. They adopted the symbol of the hydra as the Legion's symbol. This many-headed, dragon-like creature from ancient myth served to remind the brethren of the Alpha Legion of their ultimate unity in body and spirit. On the battlefield the terrifying coordination of the Alpha Legion was their hallmark, the attacks kept the enemy under relentless pressure while they sought a weak point in the enemy defenses. When Horus made his pact with Chaos the martial pride of the Alpha Legion led them to follow the Warmaster. The Warmaster was a mighty warrior himself, he commanded armies and fleets and fought at the forefront of the Emperor's wars. By comparison he made the distant Emperor on Terra seem a weak and, cowardly individual. The Warmaster was a leader worthy of their respect, the Emperor sought only to exploit Horus's conquests and crush the liberated humans of the galaxy beneath his stifling regime. Joyously, the Alpha Legion clashed with loyalist Space Marines on Istvaan V and the campaigns thereafter. Here at last was an opponent fully as tough, as war trained, as ferocious as themselves. The brethren of the hydra inflicted stinging defeats on the loyalists at Tallarn, Yarant and dozens of smaller outposts before moving onwards into the Ultima Segmenturn like an all destroying comet. The Alpha Legion became entirely separated from the forces of Horus but continued to wage war on all that they came across. Even after the Heresy failed the Alpha Legion continued to fight a covert war against the Imperium. Small units of Alpha warriors set up hidden bases in asteroid fields, space hulks and barren systems scattered throughout the galaxy while the bulk of the Legion withdrew to the Eye of Terror. Raiding parties sally out from these secret bases to catch the defenders of humanity unaware - sabotaging bases, attacking shipping, terrorising settlements and destroying small outposts with deadly efficiency. Far more dangerous are their connections with Chaos Cultists on the settled worlds of the Imperium. The Alpha Legion coordinates and directs the activities of Cultists across entire sectors to instigate massive insurrections against Imperial rule. These revolts are often used as a cover for a series of shattering Chaos Space Marine raids or as a precursor to a full scale invasion from the Eye of Terror. The Inquisition holds a special loathing for the Alpha Legion for their part in spreading these iniquitous daemon cults and fanning the embers of heresy into the raging fires of outright rebellion. The Emperor's Children The Emperor's Children were among the units assigned to crush Horus and his rebel Legions on Istvaan V. During a parley, the Legion's Primarch, Fulgrim, and his highest ranking officers were corrupted by the decadent pastimes Horus and his Chaos worshippers offered. The Imperial Cult was quickly supplanted by the gratifying worship of Slaanesh. While corrupt beyond human comprehension, the Emperor's Children are a savage fighting force. Like many of Slaanesh's followers, they have become known as Noise Marines. Each suit of armour, every bolter or chainsword is worked into fantastic patterns and coloured in praise of Slaanesh. For countless centuries, stretching back to the ancient times of the Horus Heresy, the corrupted Space Marines of the Emperor's Children Legion have been the bane of the Imperial Inquisition, spreading their foul and decadent ways across the galaxy like a plague of immorality. Loyal Inquisitors train for decades to steel themselves against the temptations of Slaanesh in order to combat this seductive, deadly threat to Imperial order. Yet, long ago, these agents of Chaos were counted among the servants of Mankind; indeed, they once were the most devoted warriors of the Emperor. Origins Chapter History

All the first founding Chapters were created to take part in Imperial Crusades. It was, however, nearly sixty years before the Emperor's Children saw action. An accident during gene-seeding almost destroyed the Chapter as it was born. Once the Chapter had been re-established with rescued gene-seed it proved to be a loyal and efficient unit, distinguishing itself in several campaigns. The Emperor's Children were one of the units assigned to pacify Horus and his rebel Chapters, and were the first unit to defect to the Warmaster. During a parley, the Chapter Master and his highest officers were corrupted by the decadent pastimes that Horus and his Chaos worshippers offered. Drugged, pleasured beyond endurance, and finally broken, they agreed to keep the Chapter neutral. Neutrality was all that Horus needed. The rot quickly spread to the whole Chapter, and the Emperor's Children willingly embraced Chaos in all its indolent depravity. The Imperial Cult of the Chapter was quickly supplanted by the more gratifying worship of Slaanesh. As one of the Traitor Legions, the Emperor's Children invaded Earth, but took little part in the fighting around the Imperial Palace. Simple pleasures had given way to complex debaucheries. While their allies fought and died the Emperor's Children slaughtered more than a million people and rendered them down to create endless varieties of drugs and stimulants. Countless thousands more died to give the Legionnaires more direct, if cruder, enjoyment. When the assault failed the Emperor's Children fled into the eye of Terror with the rest of the Traitor Legions. They were the first to begin raiding Imperial worlds for captives and plunder. Their excesses soon knew no bounds and simple raiding could not supply enough raw Human material for their orgies of worship. At this point, the Emperor's Children turned on the slaves and servants of other Traitor Legions, an action which began a series of wars within the Eye of Terror. The struggles of the Emperor's Children continued until the destruction of the cloned Horus by the Black Legion. At that point all the Traitor Legions resumed raids on the Imperium. The Emperor's Children have again proven spectacularly successful at this pursuit, and the worship of Slaanesh within the Eye of Terror has never been pursued with such fervour. Long ago, during the Age of Strife, warp travel became impossible and all the worlds which humanity had claimed were cut off from one another, forced to fend for themselves without the support of their neighbours in other star systems. The Libram ex Dominar, one of the few surviving texts from this time, tells that Chemos was one such world, a mining colony dependent on interstellar trade for food. The planet's rulers made every effort to extract enough raw food from the harsh environment to feed their people, but Chemos was a world dying a slow death. This all changed when one day the guards on the walls of Callax, the largest remaining factory- I fortress, saw a meteor descend from the clouds, trailing fire across the sky before impacting barely a mile from the fortress walls. Though little manpower could be spared, the ruling Executive of Callax sent a handful of scouts to investigate the impact site, hoping for some evidence of 'I, human survivors on other worlds. What they found became legend. In the centre of the crater, surrounded by the white-hot remains of a stasis capsule, was a child, barely more than a baby. Orphans were normally put to death on Chemos - the Executive spared no resources to look after those who were unable to return their investment by working in the factories but the captain of the Callax scouts looked into the eyes of the child and saw something more than human. In defiance of tradition, the captain of the scouts appealed to the Executive. Because of his value to Callax, the captain was allowed to adopt the infant as his own. He named his adopted son after an old legend long-since discarded by the people of Chemos, the mythical god of creation Fulgrim. The child named after this legend soon created a legend of his own, one that would become known to all the people of his world. Fulgrim grew unnaturally fast, becoming a strong, capable man. At half the age of his fellow workers he was able to fulfil his obligations to the Executive, working for days without rest. Not only was he physically proficient, he quickly grew to understand the technology of the machines he worked with and began to contemplate their improvement. By the fifteenth anniversary of his fall from the sky, Fulgrim had risen from the ranks of the workers, first becoming an engineer then one

of the Executive itself. Learning of the slow deterioration in Callax and the other settlements of Chemos, Fulgrim set himself the task of saving his world. One by one he convinced his fellow members of the Executive to fight against the entropy that was destroying Chemos. Under Fulgrim's leadership, teams of engineers travelled far from the factoryfortresses, reclaiming long-dead outposts in the planet's most inaccessible regions. The ancient mines were reopened and expanded, bringing more and more minerals into Callax and allowing the construction of more sophisticated machines. Recycling efficiency grew until, at last, Callax was producing more that it consumed. Seeing his people prosper, Fulgrim took pride in fostering the reemergence of art and culture, reclaiming the spirit of humanity that had been sacrificed so long ago in the struggle for survival. As Callax grew, the other settlements began to ally themselves with Fulgrim. Fifty years after Fulgrim fell from the sky he rose to sole rulership of Chemos. It was not long after this that the planet's isolation came to an end. From the grey sky came a flight of dropships, armoured and battle-scarred, each bearing the same symbol, a two-headed eagle. On hearing of this, some fragment of memory stirred in Fulgrim. Chemos had no formal army, but the dropships' landing zone had been surrounded by the Caretakers, the police-soldiers responsible for maintaining order in the factory-fortresses. Fulgrim sent word to the Caretakers to stand down and allow the visitors from above into Callax. In his Spartan quarters, Fulgrim was faced by armoured warriors from the stars. Their faces bore the scars of many battles, and from their shoulders hung scrolls listing their achievements. Their armour and weapons were finely worked, and their banners and pennants were works of art. Fulgrim recognised that these men were not merely advanced, but civilised - his lost brothers from the stars had preserved the arts he had longed to return to Chemos. From the midst of these warriors stepped their leader, the Emperor of Humanity. Fulgrim surveyed him and, without a word, knelt and offered his sword. On that day Fulgrim swore to serve the Imperium with all his heart. From the Emperor himself, Fulgrim learned of Terra, of the Great Crusade to reclaim the galaxy, and of his own origins. Though the story was fantastic he knew it to be true, and at the Emperor's request Fulgrim travelled to Terra to join his Legion, the Emperor's Children. Unlike the other Legions fighting in the Crusade, the Emperor's Children were few in number - an accident had destroyed nearly all of the precious gene-seed and, with the Primarch himself lost, the rebuilding had been a slow process. Fulgrim addressed the two hundred warriors who were then all that the Legion could muster. To them he gave the sacred task of bringing the Emperor's wisdom to all the stars in the sky. "We are His children," the Book of Primarchs relates he told them, "Let all who took upon us know this. Only by imperfection can we fail him. We will not fail!" So inspired was the Emperor by the words of his newly found son that he bestowed on Fulgrim's Legion a unique honour: the Emperor's Children would be permitted to display the Imperial Eagle on their armour's chest plates, the only Legion then allowed to display the symbol in such a manner. Fulgrim was anxious to begin his conquest of the unknown regions of the galaxy, but realised that his two hundred warriors were far too few to undertake a crusade on their own. With the Emperor's blessing he and his Legion joined the Luna Wolves, and Fulgrim fought side-by-side with his brother Horus, aiding him in his newly-assigned task of pacifying the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy. The Warmaster himself praised Fulgrim and his Legion, declaring them the living embodiment of the Adeptus Astartes. Swelled by new recruits drawn from Chemos and Terra, the Emperor's Children finally mustered the strength to undertake a crusade alone, and Fulgrim proudly led his warriors into the unknown. To countless worlds he brought the rule of the Emperor, crushing any resistance in the certain knowledge that any who fought against the Emperor fought against Humanity itself. From the growing ranks of his Legion, Fulgrim selected a few individuals, the bravest, strongest and noblest, to become Lord Commanders, each given charge of a full battle company. Fulgrim taught the Lord Commanders personally, taking care that they were worthy of the honour of being the representatives of the Emperor. In turn the Lord Commanders passed Fulgrim's words on to the officers under their command, and they to their squads. In this way, through their leaders, each

Space Marine of the Emperor's Children Legion followed the Emperor himself. To honour the Emperor, they strove for perfection in all things: battlefield doctrine was obeyed to the letter, tactics and strategy were studied in minute detail and perfected, and the Emperor's decrees were memorised by every Space Marine, adhered to in every way. White the Emperor's Children, like many Legions, considered the Emperor a man, not a god, their reverence and adoration for him bordered on the fanatical. Home World During its isolation, the archivists of Chemos recorded a picture of a bleak, unforgiving world. Warmed by two small distant suns and surrounded by a nebular dust cloud, it experienced neither day nor night, only a perpetual grey twilight in which the stars never shone. Settled long ago as a mining colony, the cities of Chemos had fallen into decay since their isolation from Terra. Without resources from other worlds thousands starved, and eventually it fell to a few hardy fortressfactories to keep humanity alive on Chemos. Short of food, water and energy, the people of Chemos were forced to limit themselves to the meagre supplies available all citizens worked every waking hour, operating the vapour mines that drew moisture from the thin air, and the huge synthesisers that endlessly recycled food, turning yesterday's waste into today's sustenance. Recreation, art and leisure were sacrificed in order to ensure survival, and efficiency became the only value adhered to. After coming under the rule of Fulgrim and its rediscovery by Imperial forces, Chemos quickly expanded its industrial base to become an important source of processed minerals. The fortressmonastery of the Emperor's Children was established in the centre of Callax, drawing recruits from the strongest, bravest and most intelligent of the planet's population. Though Fulgrim himself never returned to Chemos, he took great care to see that his will, as the emissary of the Emperor, was followed. The recruits from Chemos proved themselves strong and resourceful fighters, but even so only a handful of them passed the rigorous tests imposed by Fulgrim to satisfy himself that they were worthy of becoming one of the Emperor's Children. After the lifting of the Siege of Terra, and the end of the Horus Heresy, Imperial forces set out to assault Chemos from orbit, intending to destroy the Emperor's Children's fortress-monastery and eradicate any trace of Chaos from the world. Following this action Chemos was quarantined by the Inquisition, and in the past ten millennia no further information, not even a record of Exterminatus, has appeared in Imperial databases regarding the world. Combat Doctrine Studying ancient battle and status reports, the scribes of the Inquisition have pieced together some of the practices of the Emperor's Children Legion, though the original doctrine texts were lost with the Legion itself. The Legion accepted nothing less than perfection in all their endeavours, and worked ceaselessly to perfect their military operations. Each and every Space Marine trained every waking hour for his assigned task, whether it be foot soldier, driver, gunner, scout or sniper. Every aspect of battle was analysed and used to their advantage, from terrain and weather to deployment or reserves. Nothing was left to chance. In combat the Emperor's Children were as brave as any Space Marine who ever lived. Sustained not merely by the example of their peers but by a deep individual belief in their duty, they fought to the best of their abilities in all conditions, whether the battle was a massive attack or a simple patrol. It was widely believed that no Space Marine of the Emperor's Children had ever been routed in battle. Similarly, the Legion was highly demanding of forces allied with it signs of hesitation or inefficiency in the Imperial Guard or even their brother Space Marines were not tolerated. The principle of leading by example was ingrained into every fibre of the Emperor's Children, and they had little patience for any other regime. smiths of the Legion sometimes carve scenes of debauchery into shoulder and breast plates. Organisation From its humble beginnings, the Emperor's Children Legion continued to grow until it met its eventual end in the Eye of Terror. By the time Fulgrim joined the Warmaster in rebellion his Legion comprised 30 Companies, each led by a Lord Commander, a charismatic individual who

embodied the best qualities of a Space Marine. As each Space Marine looked to his superior officer for guidance, each Company inherited its manner and practices from its Lord Commander. Though this was the case with many Legions, the Emperor's Children had a strength of devotion to their leaders that was almost unmatched. According to the surviving Legion monuments seized by the Inquisition, the Emperor's Children did not literally deify the Emperor, but the strength and passion of their belief in him was equal to that of any adherent to the Imperial Cult. Following Fulgrims lead, the Legion believed that the Emperor represented the pinnacle of Humanity, and that only by following his example was it possible to attain one's full potential as a Human Being. Any person or group who resisted this goal was below contempt, not worthy even of consideration as a brother Human. However the Legion's near-worship of the Emperor was extremely hierarchical. The Emperor's perfection was thought to be embodied first by the Primarchs, by following their example, then the officers of the Legions, the Captains and Lieutenants, and finally the Sergeants and Space Marines themselves. Thus it is speculated by Inquisition theorists that it was possible for the entire Legion to be corrupted by seducing Fulgrim and his fellow officers. The surviving scrolls tell that, before their fall to Chaos, the Emperor's Children believed that the Emperor would eventually achieve total conquest of the galaxy, and with all hindrances removed there would remain no obstacle to the perfection of Human civilisation. While their studies of battle were all-important, the Space Marines of the Legion were taught reverence for the cultural aspects of civilisation music, art and sculpture among others. Artisans were brought from all the worlds of the Imperium to fashion the Legion's armour, weapons and vehicles to the highest standards. The diversity of Humanity was highly prized, and there were few restrictions on the avenues of learning available to the Legion. Gene-seed After the near destruction of the Legion in the geneseeding process, surviving fragments of the Codex indicate that absolute excellence was demanded of the Apothecaries who handled and worked on the precious genetic material. This ethos quickly merged with the Legion's general belief in perfection, so that the Emperor's Children gene-seed was perhaps the most pure and stable of all the Legions. Only the finest physical specimens were chosen for implantation, so that the mutation rate of the gene-seed was practically zero. Every enhancement produced by the gene-seed functioned at peak efficiency, allowing the Space Marines to achieve their full potential in battle. No other Space Marine Legion achieved such a goal, and the technology and expertise required have never been rediscovered in the millennia following the Horus Heresy. Battlecry "Children of the Emperor! Death to his foes!" Horus Heresy With his Primarchs and Space Marines executing the Great Crusade, the Emperor returned to Terra, intent on strengthening the Imperium which his forces were building. Most knew that his place was at the heart of his Imperium, but one man disagreed: Warmaster Horus, master of the now re-named Sons of Horus Space Marine Legion, mightiest of the Primarchs. In his arrogance, Horus believed the Emperor to be weak, a man unworthy of the battles fought in his name. Upon hearing evidence of Horus's betrayal, the Emperor sent seven entire Legions of Space Marines to challenge the Warmaster, if necessary to destroy him. The Emperor's Children were the first to arrive in the Istvaan system, where Horus waited, and Fulgrim met Horus in person to demand he account for his actions. Instead, Horus succeeded in corrupting his brother Primarch to the powers that now held sway over him. The Council of Charon, formed after the Horus Heresy to discover the causes of the traitor Primarch's betrayals, concluded that Fulgrim's respect for Horus allowed the Warmaster to influence him, weakening him enough for Chaos to lure him away from the Emperor. Slowly, as he and Horus talked, Fulgrim's loyalty to Terra crumbled, replaced by a burning desire to destroy the false Emperor, whose rule held back Humanity from the perfection Fulgrim had always believed it capable of. Seduced by Horus's words, Fulgrim turned to the promise of a new Humanity, a Humanity that would rise to the peak of civilisation, a Humanity

free of the oppressive rule of the false Emperor. Slaanesh whispered to Fulgrim, promising perfection in all things, and Fulgrim gave himself willingly to his new god. As Fulgrim turned, so too did his Lord Commanders. They knew their Primarch to be the embodiment of perfection, and needed little convincing to follow him into Slaanesh's service. Returning to their Legion, Fulgrim and his Lord Commanders met with their captains, preaching to them the glory of Chaos. The captains in turn passed the worship of Slaanesh to their subordinates, and so on until the entire Legion had forsaken the Emperor. Denouncing the teachings of their former idol, they turned wholeheartedly to Slaanesh, giving the Prince of Chaos the same measure of devotion they had once shown to the Emperor. Slaanesh, in turn, bestowed visions of paradise on the Emperor's Children, a galaxy of ultimate freedom, where no evil was possible because every experience was a source of pleasure. The Legion's Chaplains exhorted their brothers to pursue this dream, to savour every sensation. The perfection of the Emperor's Children became perfect hedonism, limitless in its scope, unstoppable in its fury. When loyal Space Marines arrived on Istvaan V, the Emperor's Children were first among the traitors who stood against them, aiding in the massacre of the loyal Legions with gleeful savagery. Horus's rebellion spread, casting the entire Imperium into turmoil. When Horus laid siege to Terra itself, the Emperor's Children were at his side, but they took little part in the stow process of whittling down the massive defences of the Imperial Palace. Instead Fulgrim turned his Legion loose on the uncontested areas of the planet, where billions of terrified humans cowered at the sight of the followers of Chaos, suddenly stripped of the protection they had counted on from the Palace. The brutality and slaughter of Istvaan repeated itself, but on a far, far greater scale. With the concentration of Chaos around Terra, the Apothecaries and Sorcerers of the Emperor's Children drew on the power of Slaanesh to enhance their pleasures, wantonly desecrating not only their minds and bodies, but now their immortal souls as well. Daemons were summoned and set loose among prisoners, feasting on their flesh as they died, while the Space Marines themselves sought even greater excesses of carnage and carnality. Fulgrim directed the slaughter with glee, believing that his Legion were setting their victims free from the chains of the Emperor's rule, and allowing them to feel true Humanity at the limits of experience. In that time, as the Siege of Terra raged around them, the Emperor's Children are reckoned to have murdered more than forty times their number of unarmed, defenceless people in their efforts to create new stimulants to feed their addiction to pleasure. How many more died simply to sate the bloodlust of their killers cannot be guessed at. Post-Heresy At the height of the Siege of Terra, Imperial history records that Horus faced the Emperor in single combat and was defeated. With his death, the Legions of Chaos fell into disarray, and so the Emperor's Children were forced to flee, scattered along with the rest of the traitor fleets. Those Imperial vessels which pursued Fulgrim's fleet from Terra followed a trail of devastated worlds, where corpses were piled high, survivors pleaded to be allowed to die to escape their nightmares and, ominously, thousands more were simply missing, never seen again. Eventually, after countless atrocities, the Emperor's Children reached the Eye of Terror where they and their fellow traitors hid from the vengeance of the Imperium. According to the Inquisition's Hades Oracle, the Emperor's Children quickly exhausted their supply of slaves and playthings, and began to prey upon the only victims available: the slaves and servants of the other Traitor Legions. The resulting wars were terrible and bloody, but there could be only one eventual result, and finally the Legion of the Emperor's Children was shattered. Of the fate of Fulgrim himself, none are sure. The enemies of Slaanesh claim he was killed during the battles against his fellow Legions, but robot-crewed Mechanicus trawlers recovered neither his body nor the remains of his battle barge. Among the remains of the Emperor's Children, it is rumoured that he was rewarded for his devotion to pleasure, and that he was elevated by Slaanesh to become a Daemon Prince, lord of a Daemon world. Over the millennia, many of the Emperor's Children, along with other Slaanesh worshipping Space Marines, sought Fulgrim's world, hoping to discover limitless pleasure, but none have returned. After ten thousand years the Inquisition still

maintains a strike force devoted to pursuing rumours, however slight, of the traitor Primarch's existence. The Emperor's Children, now leaderless, continued to pursue ultimate pleasure, finding solace for the loss of their Legion in the horror of battle, joining with other corrupted Space Marines devoted to Slaanesh in vile crusades. Most became Noise Marines, twisted creatures addicted to fury and tempest, only satisfied by the roar of explosions and the screams of the dying. Only the most extreme sensations can provoke a reaction from these jaded veterans, causing them to decorate their armour in dazzling, clashing colours, and adorn it with shimmering silks and golden chains. Despite their insanity, they remain vicious, savage warriors, delighting in the destruction they cause in battle, willing to serve any master in return for fresh slaves upon which to practice their devotion to Slaanesh. Some even rise to become warlords in their own right, striving to recreate the days millennia ago when Fulgrim led his Legion across countless worlds in an orgy of pain and death. These creatures are even more terrifying than the maniacs who serve them: from beyond pleasure-fuelled insanity they survey the galaxy with savage glee, never content to rest, always striving to surpass their latest indulgence with new, even more decadent experiences. Warbands of the Emperor's Children are thankfully rare, for there cannot be a fate in the galaxy worse than to fall prisoner to them. Chapter Colours: The Legion's original Chapter colours of gold and purple were abandoned long ago, as was the Imperial double-headed eagle which was, at one time, forbidden to all other Marine Chapters. With the Horus Heresy and the defection of the Chapter, the right to use the double-headed eagle motif was passed to other, loyal, Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes. A few of the original Traitor Marines have retained their original Chapter colours, although the Imperial badge has been replaced by Slaanesh's male-female rune. For the most part, the Emperor's Children use Slaanesh's pastel shades on their armour, reserving particular colours for different companies within the Legion. Officers and sergeants are, however, still marked out by gold or silver helmets and rank badges. The original Marine armour designs have long since been corrupted in the Emperor's Children. Over the years the mutations wrought by Chaos have been echoed in the shapes of the Legionnaire's arms and armour. A sensuous delight has been taken in making each Legionnaire's appearance grotesque and different from his comrades. Each suit of armour, every bolter, or chainsword, is worked into fantastic patterns and colored in praise of Slaanesh. Each Legionnaire alters and changes his armour slightly, adding to its quality and "beautifying" it. For the most favoured, the weapon Chapter Organization: The Emperor's Children have retained some of their former organization as Marines, but have altered it to suit their new loyalties. While corrupt beyond Human comprehension, the Legionnaires of the Emperor's Children are a savage fighting force. Like many of Slaanesh's followers, they seek and find a perverse enjoyment in battle. The danger of combat is a rediscovered thrill and aphrodisiac, allowing them to reach new extremities of debauchery. Psykers are particularly highly regarded by the Emperor's Children, both as enemies and within their own ranks. The broadcast terror of an enemy psyker can be enjoyed in its own right as a new sensation, while a Legionnaire-psyker can kill his enemies with pleasure or pure sensation- the greatest act of worship for a servant of Slaanesh. Close combat, where the enemy can be touched and directly destroyed, is also much favoured by the Emperor's Children. Few of them enter battle without some form of close combat weapon. Many Legionnaires aspire to die of pleasure while hosting a Daemon, and as a result the Legion has many Possesses and Summoned Daemons within its ranks and as allies. The Emperor's Children take a delight in the changes that Chaos and the daemonic has wrought in them, seeing these mutations as means to new pleasures or marks of Slaanesh's approval. Only in one matter has Marine tradition been completely maintained. The Chapter name has been retained unchanged throughout the Legion's exile. Successive Legion Commanders have taken

pleasure (unsurprisingly) in reaffirming the Legion's title. It has become a direct and grievous insult to the grandeur of the "false" Emperor and his staid Imperium. The Iron Warriors The Iron Warriors once formed the Emperor's most able body of siege troops. The Iron Warriors' Primarch, Perturabo, excelled in siege and warfare above all else. Wherever the Iron Warriors fight they throw up great evil citadels in their wake, and hold them against all comers. Fields of trenches and forests of razor wire surround the strongholds of the Iron Warriors. Even after Horus's defeat, the Iron Warriors were only driven out of the Imperium worlds at a terrible price. The Iron Warriors were the battering ram of the Great Crusade, hurled at every unbreakable wall or inaccessible citadel that stood between the Emperor and the establishment of the Imperium of Man. The blood and sweat shed during those distant times was wasted when the Iron Warriors turned on their brother Space Marines on Istvaan V and ensured that their once-proud name would be forever synonymous with treachery and heresy. Origins The Iron Warriors are a Legion of the First Founding, formed when the Imperium was young and the Emperor walked amongst his people. As with the other Legions, they were created after the Primarchs had disappeared. Although the Iron Warriors did not know their Primarch, during those early years they did inherit common characteristics, notably an affinity for technology and a coldly efficient logic, both of which served them well when calculation was needed, but left them lacking in faith. Tragically for the Iron Warriors, they were ultimately to be confronted by a threat against which the only possible defence was unshakeable faith. On Olympia the Emperor found the Primarch from whom the Iron Warriors had been fashioned Perturabo. Dark and melancholy, with a mind like a razor, he was warlord to the Tyrant of Lochos and, like his Legion, was a master of siege craft. By a curious twist of fate, Perturabo had been put in the one place where there was nothing for him to learn but the extent of his own superiority. Olympia was, in those days ten thousand years gone, a rugged and mountainous world, its population concentrated within a multitude of city-states. The ready availability of quarried stone and the terrain made the control of strategic passes and high ground the key to military security. The young Perturabo was discovered climbing the sheer cliffs below the city state of Lochos. Aware that this was no ordinary child, the city guard brought him before the Tyrant of Lochos, Dammekos. Intrigued by the strange, dark child, Dammekos took him into his household as if he were his own family. Perturabo never trusted the Olympians and, although Dammekos took time and trouble to win the trust and affection of the boy, Perturabo did not respond with any warmth. Many saw him as a cold youth but, when one considers that he had been cast alone into a strange world with no clue as to his own origins or the reason for his unusual abilities, this is perhaps harsh. When the Great Crusade reached Olympia, Perturabo pledged his loyalty to the Emperor and, as was his custom with his Primarchs, the Emperor granted Perturabo command of a Space Marine Legion and suzerainty of the planet as the Legion's home world. The deposed Tyrant of Lochos spent the last few years of his life trying to marshal support to reclaim Olympia. He failed, but created an undercurrent of unrest that was to be harnessed many years later. There was little time to delay. With the Great Crusade in full swing, Perturabo recruited new Iron Warriors from amongst the Olympians and conducted a lightning campaign against the nearby world of Justice Rock and the heretical Black Judges. The new recruits served well and their triumphant return was celebrated in the Palimodes Fresco, now known only through fragmented holo-recordings. The Iron Warriors led by Perturabo were devastating siege troops. Expert engineers with crosstraining from the Priesthood of Mars, they quickly built on their already impressive reputation. Whilst the Iron Warriors were determined to serve Mankind and their Emperor, their specialisation was an unfortunate one. The nature of siege warfare is long periods of dull, back-breaking labour broken by the most brutal, merciless combat imaginable. Men, even Space Marines, cannot

withstand hell indefinitely and combat fatigue began to brutalise the Iron Warriors. The custom existed that once the siege lines were complete the besieged must either surrender or expect no quarter. With each campaign the Iron Warriors came to prefer the latter. Battle was to these Space Marines a release from the -tedium of life in the siege trenches. As the Crusade moved forward, many Iron Warrior citadels were established on liberated worlds guaranteeing a safe line of communications. There is a grim irony that the first and last military use of these citadels was to resupply Horus' forces on their traitorous march on Terra. Tiny numbers of Iron Warriors garrisoned the new fortifications. Where the likes of Russ, Vulkan and Magnus refused to split their forces, Perturabo obeyed his orders with increasing bitterness. The Iron Warriors were turning into a garrison Legion with tiny deployments all over the Imperium. For example, the infamous Iron Keep on Delgas II was garrisoned by one squad of ten Iron Warriors despite the world having a disgruntled population of almost 130 million. Resentment began to build up throughout the Legion and particularly with Perturabo himself. The passage of years and the carnage of the Heresy have long destroyed any possibility of proving why the Iron Warriors were treated with such casual disdain. Having finally found the truth of his existence, Perturabo was initially fanatically devoted to the Emperor and was ready to embrace missions that the other Primarchs avoided. The Iron Warriors' indisputable success then led to them being `typecast' to the extent that they became an automatic choice for a siege or garrison mission. But all troops need time for rest and reorganisation if they are to be at their best. Clearly some authority chose to keep the Iron Warriors in action despite the harm it was doing. The Emperor may have been deliberately testing Perturabo's faith but, given that Horus, as Warmaster, had control over the precise conduct of many campaigns, it is more likely that he was responsible. When the Heresy began, it was clear that Horus had already established `understandings' with other Legions. In hindsight, it is perfectly conceivable that Horus was working to demoralise and derange the Iron Warriors to make them more malleable. It is widely claimed that Perturabo was envious of Rogal Dorn. Given Dorn's well-attested vanity, one can imagine how frequent reference to the perfection of the defences of the Emperor's palace on Terra might have antagonised his brother Primarch. Dorn had this effect on a great many people but Perturabo brooded on it and let each boast become a open wound that a cunning manipulator could pull and prod to elicit a response. It is undoubtedly true that the other Primarchs kept Perturabo at a distance. This may be attributable to his technical genius that was far in advance of any of the others. Perturabo could match wits with Adeptus Mechanicus Magi on anything from warp drives to macro cannons. This was reflected in the way his deeds are recorded in the legends passed down from those times. In one famous story describing the occasion when Leman Russ and Jaghatai Khan routed the Orks of Overdog Mashogg, Perturabo features only as the `comrade' who calculated the optimum way to bypass Mashogg's low orbit defences. The Heresy In the midst of the cleansing of the Hrud Warrens on Gugann matters were brought to a head. It was Horus who broke the news to Perturabo that Olympia was in rebellion. Dammekos had died and the population, incited by demagogues, had taken up arms. Perturabo was by this time tired of repeatedly having to prove his worth and now, after all his battles, the thought of being the only Legion unable to hold its own home world appalled him. Horus made the most of the opportunity. Before his departure, Horus presented Perturabo with the hammer Forgebreaker. It is possible that the weapon acted as a conduit through which the forces of Chaos could manipulate the Iron Warrior Primarch. Alternatively, a mark of respect from such a leader as Horus could have signalled the sealing of a pact between the two. Perturabo and the Iron Warriors suppressed the rebellion on the streets of one city-state after another. No one was spared. It was the principle of surrender or no quarter, and the Iron Warriors had grown accustomed to granting no quarter. Perturabo watched on as unmoved and cold as the fortifications in which he taken such pride were overcome. By the time the massacre was over, Olympia had been culled into slavery with almost 5 million civilians dead.

As the pyres burned through the long Olympian night, the Iron Warriors slowly realised the extent of what they had done. One moment they were humanity's heroes assaulting the Hrud and the next they were committing genocide. Perturabo was like a man emerging from a drunken stupor who finds blood on his hands, only dimly aware of how it got there, but is aware of an oppressive reeling of shame nonetheless. He knew that the Emperor could never forgive him his crime. It was in this doomed mood that the Iron Warriors received news and orders. The news would have been shattering finder normal circumstances, but when heard in ruins that were thick with the stench of the dead, it was apocalyptic. Russ' Space Wolves had attacked Magnus' Thousand Sons on Prospero. Horus had turned renegade along with his own Sons of Horus. Angron's World Eaters and Mortarion's Death Guard were also with him. Fulgrim and the Emperors Children had tried to reason with Horus, but had been seduced into joining him instead. Now the universe exceeded the Iron Warriors in madness. Confused bewilderment gave way to the realisation that, with the entire Imperium in flames, their excesses were irrelevant. According to the accompanying orders they had received, the Iron Warriors were to join six other Legions to face Horus on Istvaan V. The events on Istvaan V are part of the Heresy legend. The Iron Warriors joined with the Night Lords, Word Bearers and Alpha Legion to destroy the three Legions in the task force who remained loyal. After Istvaan, the Iron Warriors were let loose. Finally freed from doomed missions, they were possessed with a terrible energy. On a dozen worlds, an Iron Warrior Warsmith replaced the true governor and tithes were paid under the shadow of fortified battlements. A strong contingent of the Legion accompanied Perturabo to Terra where he supervised the siege of the Emperor's Palace Here his skills were invaluable and the Iron Warriors Fund a sublime pleasure in tearing the edifices of the Imperium down. The end was near for the defenders when the Emperor confronted Horus on his battle barge and defeated him. Like many of Horus' followers, the Iron Warriors fled to the Eye of Terror, securing a new home world where they could brood on the turn of events and plot vengeance. The rest of the Iron Warriors defended their small empire based on Olympia, but there was no refuge from the retribution of the loyalist Legions. The Imperial Fists supported the Ultramarines in a decade-long campaign to liberate the subjugated worlds. They discovered the Iron Warriors to be like a barbed hook that, once embedded into 1 victim could only be removed with great risk of injuring the victim further. The Olympia garrison held out for two years, eventually triggering their missile stockpiles when defeat was unavoidable. They left a blasted wasteland that, like the other Traitor Legion home worlds, was declared Perdita. Home World Like the other Traitor Legions, the Iron Warriors have seized a planet within the Eye of Terror and made it their new home world. Knowledge of the worlds within the Eye of Terror is scant at best and the realm of Chaos rarely stays the same for long. Medrengard is frequently depicted as a world turned into a vast fortress, all trace of its original form lost under mountains of impossibly high towers, its core penetrated by plunging dungeons. Whilst this is feasible within the Eye of Terror where the laws of physics do not apply, it is inconsistent with Iron Warrior fortifications in real space which are far more advanced in design and construction. Many depictions of worlds within the Eye of Terror have been derived from nightmarish visions rather than actual observation, and this may be so with Medrengard. Inquisitor Maul performed an extended reconnaissance of the Eye of Terror in M.38. Although he was not cogent upon his return, his ship's interior bulkheads were covered by script in the Inquisitor's own blood describing what he had seen. Medrengard was described as a bleak gaol world where slaves toiled and died while great Chaos warships were tethered to its tallest towers wherein resided the Warriors themselves. Combat Doctrine The Iron Warriors follow a simple method. They commence battle with a sustained bombardment utilising every gun at their disposal. The basis of this is a complex fire plan in which every weapon is directed with utmost care at the optimum target for maximum effect. Where possible, the Iron

Warriors will coordinate with Traitor Titan Legions to add to their own considerable firepower. The bombardment can last for weeks as the Iron Warriors rarely seem to be short of ammunition. They handle their weaponry well, with formations moving forward to fire and then redeploying before any reprisal. Often their entire force will move laterally to bring their fire against enemy weak points, with the result that counter-attacks flounder helplessly in the teeth of the Iron Warriors' weapons. Where possible, field fortifications will be used to reinforce the line. Iron Warrior doctrine includes extensive use of fortifications to tie opponents down with the absolute minimum number of troops. This in turn keeps the bulk of the Iron Warriors troops fresh and available for assaults. When a breach has been forced in the enemy defences it will initially be probed by veterans and infiltrated, then the gap will be prised open with firepower until a storming force can be unleashed. These storming forces are based around fast moving heavy armour which can move instantly from relentless barrage to lightning-fast advance. Breaches are then widened until the defences are shattered. For the key moments in battle when a position absolutely must be taken, the Iron Warriors adopt an ice-cold ferocity that is comparable to the Blood Angels or World Eaters but only when the moment is right and never for longer than necessary. Once they have an opponent at their mercy, the Iron Warriors are content to surround them and destroy them at their leisure, always preferring to let shell and laser beam do their work for them. The Iron Warriors are expert sappers, engineers and miners and have acquired a formidable siege train of specialist equipment over the centuries. This includes Termite tunnellers, a Leviathan transport, Dreadclaw assault boats adapted for planetary landings and a large assortment of Imperial-built artillery. These are used very sparingly and are maintained and guarded by the 1 st Company. Additionally they have a number of Corvus assault pods which allow them to make use of any supporting Titans as siege towers. The Iron Warriors are so frequently supported by Titans that some Imperial experts have asserted that they are part of the same formation. This is not widely accepted, but the theory is a reflection of the Legion's predilection for heavy barrages. Organisation The Iron Warriors are organised as a number of Grand Companies each commanded by a Warsmith. Originally each Grand Company would have had a similar organisation totalling approximately a thousand Space Marines, but now they vary in size enormously. The Warsmiths themselves are all extremely gifted in combat engineering, many maintaining a large contingent of slave-mechanicians to perform the more menial work. It is uncertain how many Grand Companies there are at any given time. At the time of the Heresy, the Legion had at least twelve Companies, although with the widespread deployment of many small detachments of the Legion at the time it is impossible to be sure. Like many of the Traitor Legions, their current organisation is completely non-standard. A Grand Company will often be divided into component detachments led by lesser champions. A tendency towards operating in multiples of three has been noted, although this is far from being verified. Suitable recruits are taken (willingly and unwillingly) to Medrengard where they are selected periodically by Warsmiths for their Grand Company and subjected to ordeals until they prove themselves worthy. The first Obliterators witnessed amongst Chaos forces were amongst the Iron Warriors and, on very rare occasions, Iron Warriors have manifested the ability to `morph' weapons, although with nothing like the versatility of the Obliterators. The Iron Warriors believe that the Emperor used them to fight the bloodiest battles of his Crusade and then let the other, more favoured Primarchs take all the glory. They also believe that Rogal Dorn turned Olympia against them so that they would be disgraced and discarded after they had served their purpose. They will have vengeance on both. They see themselves as titans of old who are loose in the universe, doing whatever they like, knowing that no natural or man-made law can stop them. They honour the Chaos gods as a pantheon but are not truly devout themselves. Their greatest loyalty is to Perturabo who they believe saved them from being sacrificed by the false emperor.

Gene-seed The Iron Warriors are a first founding Legion and bear the gene-seed of Perturabo. Since turning to Chaos they are subject to varying degrees of mutation and have been known to replace mutated limbs with cybernetic ones. They have a marked tendency toward suspicion and paranoia but are also extremely intelligent with naturally well developed problem solving abilities. Battle-cry Monotone chant of "Iron Within, Iron Without". The Thousand Sons Their Primarch is Magnus the Red, called the Red Cyclops or Cyclopean Magnus, due to his one large eye and his flaming-red hair. Even before the Horus Heresy the Thousands Sons became involved with arcane lore and the practice of sorcery. Despite warnings from the Emperor the Thousand Son continued to delve deeper into the mysteries of the warp. Magnus remained loyal, however, even attempting to warn the Emperor about Horus through his arcane powers. But the Emperor, mistrustful of anything tinged by the warp and Chaos, sent Leman Russ and the Space Wolves to destroy the Thousand Sons homeworld. Once driven into war, Magnus had little choice but to ally himself with Tzeentch, greatest magician of the Chaos Gods, to avoid total destruction. Magnus escaped the aftermath of the Horus Heresy by using his sorcerous powers to open a warp interface through which the ships of the Thousand Sons could flee to the Eye of Terror. There Tzeentch granted Magus the Planet of Sorcerers to rule as his own. Over the centuries Cyclopean Magnus has become a sorcerer of the most consummate power. His single eye blazes with mystic energy and his limbs constantly burn with blue-white witchfire. Magnus had already been touched by Chaos long before the Horus Heresy, from his long study of the Arcane arts. Even though the Thousand Sons tried to use their occult powers to warn the Emperor of Horus's heresy, the Emperor, mistrustful of anything tinged by Chaos, declared the Thousand Sons heretics and sent Leman Russ and the Space Wolves to devastate the Thousand Sons' homeworld of Prospero. The Thousand Sons were driven to war against their Emperor, and had to fight alongside the Traitor Legions for their survival. The Thousand Sons turned to Tzeentch and asked for his patronage, as she is the greatest wielder of Magic among the Chaos gods. Magnus the Red was elevated to the rank of Daemon Prince of Tzeentch and given a Daemon World to rule over. He rules from his great volcanic fortress called The Tower of The Cyclops. The topmost level of the fortress has a single living eye, which watches over the landscape and the minions of its Lord, The Eternal Watchdog of The Sorcerer King. Over time, the Thousand Sons started to degenerate and become mutated. The Sorcerers of the Thousand Sons joined together in a cabal led by Ahriman. Even though they risked the wrath of their Daemon Primarch, they cast the spell The Rubric of Ahriman, purging the Thousand Sons of mutation for all of eternity. This caused the great schism within the Legion, and caused the cabal to be banished by the enraged Primarch and scattered to fight in different Traitor Legions across The Eye of Terror. Do not ask which creature screams in the night Do not ask which creature screams in the night, Do not question who waits for you in the shadow. It is my cry that wakes you in the night, And my body that crouches in the shadow. I am Tzeentch and you are the puppet That dances to my tune. Karazantor the Vile, The Traitor of Xian

The Black Legion The Black Legion is the only one of the Traitor Legions to have changed its name in its ten thousand years of exile. The Legion was originally created in the first founding as the Luna Wolves. The Emperor subsequently bestowed a new name on the Legion in recognition of its accomplishments in the Ullanor Crusade, renaming it in honour of its Primarch - so the Legion became the Sons of Horus. It was as the Sons of Horus that the Legion fought in the Horus Heresy, serving as his praetorians throughout his campaigns. They were the first to remove the symbol of the Imperial eagle from their armour and banners and replace it with the eye of Horus symbol which became such a dread icon of Chaos to the Imperium. They fought with pride and unthinkable ferocity knowing that they were the chosen amongst the Warmaster's new order. When Horus was defeated by the Emperor the Legion's morale was shattered: their patron, their father, was gone. Factions in the other Traitor Legions later blamed the Sons of Horus for beginning the rout from Earth by retreating into warp space with the body of their beloved Warmaster, leaving the horde leaderless below. But the battle for Earth had been lost when Horus fell, and no power in the universe could have brought victory to the forces of Chaos. In the Eye of Terror the Sons of Horus fought ferocious battles with the other Legions for possession of key worlds and resources, fighting to re-establish themselves as the prime Legion. The Sons of Horus worshipped one Chaos Power after another and each time more of their number gave themselves up to possession by daemons. Over centuries they were also bled white in a succession of bloody conflicts with different Legions. These internecine conflicts eventually culminated in the destruction of the Sons' final fortress by a combined force of Traitor Legions. To add to the ignominy the Warmaster's body was removed and cloned, much to the disgust of the remaining Sons. Denied their Warmaster the Sons of Horus swore allegiance to Abaddon, captain of the 1st Company, as their new Warmaster. Abaddon's first edicts rejected the name of Horus and their ancient Legion title. He ordered the remaining Chaos Space Marines to repaint their armour black in eternal memory of their shame and then led them in a lightning raid which destroyed the Warmaster's body and his clones. The Legion's remaining battle barge disappeared into the gigantic dust nebulae at the edge of the Eye of Terror to serve as a hidden base for Abaddon and his "Black Legion". The Black Legion has raided into the Imperium and the Eye of Terror ever since. Their battle barge has been seen in many parts of the galaxy only to disappear as mysteriously as it arrived. The Legion leaves traces of its presence on many planets, and has fought against Imperial forces on many occasions, but its motives and loyalties remain unclear. During the Ultramarines' operations against the Tyranid hive-fleet 'Behemoth', for example, a Black Legion helmet was found by a combat ship clearance squad. Inquisition scholars are still divided over the significance of this discovery. Abaddon has fought to rebuild the pride and reputation of the Black Legion, always leading his forces into the most dangerous conflicts personally. At first Abaddon won the grudging respect of the other Traitor Legions, but as his deeds have grown mightier he has succeeded in winning their support too. His impassioned words have rekindled the Traitor Legions' smouldering hatred of the Imperium and warriors of all the Legions have fought beneath his banner. Abaddon has marshalled his strength with care and now commands the loyalty of captains from all of the other Traitor Legions. Those who oppose him are crushed, those who join him add their strength to the greatest army ever assembled in the Eye of Terror. Abaddon has tested the strength of the Imperium many times in the Long War, and with each victory his power grows. One day the Imperium will show a weakness, a chink in its armour. On that day Abaddon will lead his Black Legion and his hordes of the lost and the damned back to the material universe once and for all. Some Black Legionnaires have hired themselves out as mercenaries, but only the most desperate,

or insane, would ever dare hire them. They are a Legion few in number, amongst the smallest of the Traitor Legions, but their officers are possibly the finest as they use their troops to the best effect. The Worldeaters I salute you! For though our path has been long and bloody, you have served our Lord with unflinching courage and honour of true warriors. We have seen many fall today and must remember, even as we die, that our blood is too welcome .... Harkon Ironfist The World Eaters were one of the Space Marine Chapters who joined the forces of Chaos during the infamous Horus Heresy. The World Eaters were always the toughest and most determined warriors, savage in battle and exultant in victory. The Worldeaters were easily converted to following the Chaos god Khorne due to their marshal pride and their belief that The Emperor and The Imperium had become soft and decadent. They have totally devoted themselves to fighting as close combat troops, feeding upon the berserk rage of Khorne and distaining ranged weapons as the weapons of weaklings. They arm themselves entirely with pistols and close combat weapons, huge chainaxes and chainswords becoming their favoured tools of bloodshed. The Worldeaters have split into separate squads, each following its own Champion of Khorne. They have become so engrossed in their fighting rage that any chance for them to operate as a cohesive Legion is long past. I hear you crying, little humans. Do you know that sound? It is our voice that speaks through you! It slices through the veil of your dreams! Attend, wretched thralls, and feel the hot breath of our violence upon your very souls. Such is our rage that I hemorrhage as I tell you this again: your god is dead! Ten thousand years have bled across the skies, since our Warmaster ripped the Emperor's bowels from his broken body. And still you dream. Ten thousand years since Horus was struck down by the treacherous mind of your shattered deity. And still you dream. What was it that struck our master down; a cunning conceit, a desperate dream of cowering humanity, a lie. And still you share his dream. It is a fantasy! A lie so noxious that it shrouds the minds of all humanity. Once we acknowledged your Emperor as a crafty foe; now we understand the nature of his craft: trickery and deceit. His degenerate mind seeks to pervert the future of humanity, to guide it shaking and knock-kneed into a servile future, where the strong and fearless are vilified to perpetuate your thralldom, his dream. Do you really believe that we were vanquished? Never had the skull throne been raised to such heights as it was on the day when we slew your god. And in defeat your leader cried like an infant, weeping before the Warmaster. I remember. I was there. Were you? It is from your Emperor's skull that Khorne now quaffs his crimson nectar. But it is your Emperor's sick mind that pollutes your brains. It is his sick psychic powers which give truth to the lie which you live. Your life is but a dream, thrall, and you are content to shuffle meekly on your knees to destruction, sleepwalking to your doom. And you call yourselves warriors! You are nothing but fools and cowards. Unquestioning, blind, obedient: you slumber your life away. You have not the courage to open your eyes, let alone to fight your real enemy. Thus we must act. We prepare the way for Horus' return, we rage across the cosmos, eating worlds, defecating skulls. Ours is a blessed crusade to purge the universe of your god's grey and sterile vision. Our eyes see only red, yet we see a million shades, from the bright arterial pink that lurks in the hearts of infants to the deepest infra-red that streams from the pelts of our daemons. When we look at you, we see only a watery pink; you are impermanent, imperfect dreamers. We are a nightmare come amongst you. -Lt. Commander Magnus Creed World Eater

The World Eaters were First Founding Space Marines, and still regard themselves as such. It is the later Foundings under their false Emperor of Mankind who have turned from the true path and become decadent and depraved. Even before the Horus Heresy, the World Eaters were noted for their bloody-handed approach to warfare and the savagery of their training. Chapter rituals and treatment of enemies. Their use of psychosurgery to alter the pleasure centres of recruits brains was, however, frowned upon by the Imperium. The link between bloodshed and pleasure became so strong in some World Eater Marines that they were almost uncontrollable away from the battlefield. It was a simple matter for the possessed Horus to bring the Chapter to the worship of Chaos, and Khorne in particular. The Chapter rituals needed little modification, and the World Eaters quickly became loyal to Khorne, the bloodiest of the warp Powers. Once held up as an example of loyalty by the Emperor, the World Eaters were at the forefront of the rebel Legions during the Heresy. Their unit records claim that it was they, and not the Sons of Horus, who first breached the walls of the Outer Palace. The World Eaters continued and strengthened their blood traditions while in exile, tying themselves ever closer to Khorne and his Daemons. Many World Eaters officers gave themselves to possessing Daemons long ago, and the remaining companies of the Legion include at least one possessed model. To the Legionnaires this is merely a sign of Khornes esteem and they take an unholy joy in slaying in his name - a joy reinforced by their altered nervous systems. World Eater Legionnaires carry a large number of close combat weapons into battle. Chainswords are the preferred weapon of combat, unless a Khorne-given Chaos or Daemon Weapon has been granted. Competition to be first into the fray and the first to kill for the Blood God is fierce. Over their centuries of exile this competition has been refined and formalized in the Company of the Chosen, warriors who have demonstrated that their devotion to Khorne is fanatical in the extreme. This devotion is also a result of over-zealous psychosurgery. Dressed in armour of red and brass, these Chosen Legionnaires are the first into any battle and the last to leave the field. Their delight in death and pain is so strong that they have been known to fall on their own chainswords as sacrifices to the Blood God. The World Eaters wear armour in Khornes colours of red and black, Individual patterns vary, but the right gauntlet is always painted red as a mark of loyalty to Khorne. Khornes stylised skullrune is painted and carved on many suits of powered armour. However, the original chapter colours of white and blue are still visible on some items of World Eater armour and equipment. Often a shoulder piece, a breastplate or a single piece of armour has come from one of the Legions original Space Marines and has been incorporated (without redecoration) into the Legions new armour. In this way the courage of the original rebel Traitor Legionnaires is passed on to the entire Legion. World Eater Personalities Trusted servants of Khorne, the officers of the World Eaters are held personally responsible for the bloodshed carried out in his name. They are expected to set an example to their underlings by carrying the fight into the heart of the enemy. Though the gates that stand between the mortal world and the immortal Realm of Chaos are now closed to me, still I would rather die having glimpsed eternity than never to have stirred from the cold furrow of mortal life. I embrace death without regret as I embraced life without fear. Kargos Bloodspitter, Champion of Khorne

>>>>>Chaos Champions
Although we divide Chaos Space Marine characters into Champions, Heroes and Mighty Heroes

for convenience, all of these characters are termed Chaos Champions. Chaos Champions are the favoured servants of their masters, the Gods of Chaos, and their complete devotion is rewarded with numerous gifts of power. As a Champion gains favour in the eyes of his Chaos God so he becomes more powerful. There is a terrible price to pay, for the Gods of Chaos are whimsical and uncaring creatures, whose gifts often bring gross physical mutation and deformity. Horns, wildly discoloured flesh, distorted limbs, cloven hoofs and other, stranger, mutations are all too common amongst the Champions of Chaos who bravely bear their disfigurements as symbols of their divine favour. There appears to be no more order in life than the flow of blood droplets from a mortal wound. I will continue to search in both. You there! How would you like to assist in my quest? -attributed to Lord Demeuis of Khorne, last received transmission of Grey Knight Squad Alpha

Chaos Cultists
The followers of Chaos are not always so easily recognisable as the bloody-handed Chaos Lord and his ferocious pillaging warband of Chaos Space Marines. Some lie hidden in human society, seeming ordinary folk with normal occupations and interests, awaiting only the right moment to reveal their true loyalties. These agents of Chaos represent a threat to the Imperium at least as great as that of the marauding bands of Chaos Renegades, for they gnaw away at the heart of the Imperium from within. These followers of Chaos are organised into Chaos Cults: secret and heretical bodies devoted to the service of Chaos and the Chaos Powers. Chaos Cults attract all kinds of people. They have an especially strong appeal to those whose ambitions or sense of adventure cannot find an outlet within more normal society. To those who are bold enough to take it, Chaos offers an opportunity to acquire real power quickly. To some it is the quest for knowledge itself which lures them onto the Chaos Path, the chance to gain knowledge of the warp and psychic power, knowledge that will give them power. Others are attracted by the prospect of more material power; the acquisition of wealth, influence and followers. Many more are the ordinary followers of corrupt, influential leaders. Chaos offers an escape from day-to-day drudgery, conventional social life, and perpetual self doubt. It is no coincidence that many of the lowly followers of Chaos are mentally unstable, social misfits, or else desperate individuals whose only hope of sanctuary lies in the bosom of Chaos. Some Cultists worship Chaos in its entirety or Undivided Glory, just as some Chaos Champions dedicate themselves to Chaos as a whole rather than to a particular Power. These Cultists venerate the Great Powers, Daemons, and other Powers of Chaos as a pantheon of diverse gods. The worship of the Chaos Powers in this way follows a pattern of polytheism which is quite common among native religions. This polytheistic version of Chaos is therefore the most obvious form of worship on these worlds. However, those who posses more knowledge about the warp and the individual Chaos Powers will usually choose to single out one Power as the object of worship. The most important Powers are the four Great Powers of Khorne, Slaanesh, Nurgle and Tzeentch, but many other lesser Powers, Daemon Princes and Daemons are also worshipped. The most dangerous Cults are those who worship the Chaos Powers directly and go so far as to summon Daemons from the warp itself. These are the Chaos Cultists who are most vigorously hunted and suppressed by the Inquisition because their activities pose a very real threat to humanity. Inevitably Chaos Cults will be drawn into conflict, perhaps with the authorities or maybe with other criminal organisations or even rival Cultists. Cults are perfectly able to fight, and can usually do so without coming directly into open. After all, one gangland skirmish is pretty much like another, and it is not only Chaos Cultists who may want a local proctor killed or a governors assistant assassinated. The main bulk of the Cult is made up of ordinary Cultists. These may vary in number from a mere handful to many hundreds or even thousands. Their allegiance to the Chaos Gods is highly secret.

They lead seemingly normal lives, perhaps even holding trusted positions within the local government, but their true loyalties lie within the Cult. When the Cult is ready to rise against the authorities, the Cultists finally reveal their true colours and take up arms at the command of their demagogue. Cults prepare for armed struggle by amassing arsenals of weapons and equipment. If they are able to do so, the Cult will attempt to infiltrate and subvert the local defence forces. They may also use psychic powers to contact Chaos Space Marines drifting through the warp and guide them to their world. Once the forces of Cult and Chaos Space Marines are united the Cult can come out into the open, and the whole world will be plunged into devastating conflict from which the Cult may emerge as a major world power. Chaos is not only a deadly enemy that threatens the Imperium from without, it is a foe that works its insidious evil within the very heart of the Imperium, on every world, in every Imperial organisation, even within the very Adeptus Terra itself. Everywhere there are fools too weakminded to resist the temptations of power. Their ambition and greed cannot be sated except by the ever eager Gods of Chaos. For the price of his soul a man can enjoy temporal power for a while, glory for a day, and the certainty of damnation for all eternity. So long as there are men who do not truly believe in the horrors of the Chaos Gods there will always be those who choose to worship them. Many are renegades from Imperial justice, refugees from the Judges, or mutants whose psychic powers make life in the Imperium too dangerous for them. Others seek power within their society, dreaming of overthrowing their lord and seizing control themselves. Those who would meddle with the Chaos Gods, who would willingly call upon daemons, are sick in mind and spirit, and are the avowed enemies of the Imperium. All over the Imperium there are hidden cults dedicated to the worship of the Dark Gods of Chaos. This is the most heinous of all heresies and the most terrible betrayal of mankind. Once it has begun, the corruption spreads like a foul disease, the victims of doubt becoming the new evangelists of heresy, corrupting others with their perversity and tempting the innocent with promises of easy power. Chaos cults incite revolt and disorder, or work their way into governmental organisations and seize control from within. Whole worlds may be plunged into anarchy. Freed from the righteous restraints imposed by the Imperium psykers go out of control, releasing a vortex of psychic energy that tears at the fabric of the multiverse. If allowed to go unchecked, the psychic emanations of a frenzied population will produce a massive warp-rift, engulfing the planet within a tide of daemons, swallowing the whole world within the warp and creating yet another substantial gateway from which the perils of Chaos can invade the universe. Small wonder that the Inquisition would rather subject a world to Exterminatus that let this happen. Chaos Cultists are often hidden within what appears to be loyal communities of Imperial citizens. They come from all classes and occupations, and can appear on any of the millions of planets with the Imperium. These cultists are as great a threat to the Imperium as the many raids by renegade Chaos Marines, as they strike at the Imperium from within, spreading terror and destruction. they corrupt the citizens and defenders of the Imperium and infect the Imperium with the taint of Chaos. These followers of the Chaos Gods organize themselves into covens structured as religions, and they subvert and recruit new members with promises of divine notice and rewards, with promises of power and gifts granted by the Gods of Chaos. These Cults are especially attractive to ambitious individuals and those who are bored with living within the restraints of life within the Imperium. Those who seek thrills and adventure are easily swayed by the leaders of these cults and brought to the worship of Chaos. Some are seeking the power to warp reality through Sorcery and psychic abilities. Some are seeking wealth, while others seek power over their fellow man. The majority, though, are just misled ordinary people who are condemned by their misguided beliefs. Many followers of Chaos comes from those of very low intelligence, and those of unstable mentality. Murderers and those who have committed other despicable crimes seek sanctuary within

the Chaos Cults in an attempt to escape justice. Some Cults worship Chaos Undivided, while others worship an individual Chaos God. Either way, they strive to further the cause of Chaos in its struggle to cominate the galaxy and destroy the Imperium. The Cults that cause the most damage are those that worship one individual Chaos God and have gained the power to summon daemons from the Warp to aid them. The Inquisition is ever searching out these Cults, striving to rid the Imperium of the infection of Chaos. Across the countless worlds of the Imperium, there are many who plot and rebel against their masters. Most dangerous of all are those who become seduced by the power of Chaos, believing that the worship of the Dark Gods will give them a quick and easy way of achieving their goals. The lure of Chaos attracts all manner of men on all kinds of different worlds. Planets which vary tremendously in their civilisations and technical achievements all harbour the followers of Chaos -from the most blood-splattered practitioners of ritual worship on feral worlds to the sophisticated membership of secret societies on Hive Worlds. Even on comfortable, civilised worlds there are those who crave forbidden knowledge, whose lust for unearthly power and arcane lore overrides their loyalty to the Imperium. All over the galaxy, even upon Mars and Ancient Terra at the heart of Mankinds rule, there are heretics willing to dabble in dark arts beyond their understanding. The ever-present dangers of discovery by the Inquisition and other Imperial agencies make it imperative for Chaos cults to conceal their activities. Under the guise of normality, perhaps beneath the legitimate facade of a labour union, charitable organisation or business venture, the cult will accumulate power and additional members through blackmail, bribery and corruption. Once the cult has become strong enough it will start an uprising which, with the blessings of the Dark Gods, will deliver the entire planet into the arms of Chaos. The cultists will summon plagues of Daemons through possession, ritual and sacrifice, they will send forth a call to draw renegades and Chaos Space Marines to their aid. If their efforts meet with their gods approval they may even be blessed with a Greater Daemon or Daemon Prince to lead them against their foes. One way or another Chaos Cultists are utterly damned. If their revolt fails, the terrible retribution of the Emperors minions will be exacted upon the survivors. If it succeeds, the Cultists will have unleashed the power of Chaos and all but the most powerful members of the cult will be enslaved by Daemons on a hell-world of their own making. Some may question your right to destroy ten billion people. Those who understand realise that you have no right to let them live! In Exterminatus Extremis

Daemons
The Chaos Powers are not alone in warp space. The Powers of Chaos are the stuff of the warp, puckered into coherent form by one means or another, but they are slaves to its currents. As a result, they have created servants -Chaos Daemons - who are not bound so closely to the warp. They are separate from the fabric of their universe, and do not flow and change with it. Daemons are beings of a completely different order to their masters, and are the most numerous creatures in the warp. A Daemon is born when a Chaos Power gives up a little of its accumulated power to create a separate being. This power binds a collection of senses, thoughts and purposes together, giving a personality and consciousness that moves within the warp. The Chaos Power can reclaim the power and independence it has given to its Daemon children at any time, thus ensuring their loyalty, It is only through the loss of this power that a Daemon can be killed. Its mind dissolves into the whirls and currents of warp space. Slaying a Daemons physical form only destroys its presence in reality; its warp power is untouched. Daemons have no physical existence within the warp, but they project a form of some type. The bizarre and inhuman appearances projected by Daemons indicate their presence, status and allegiance to a Chaos Power. These insubstantial forms echo (or are echoed by) the physical

shapes adopted by Daemons in real space, and the children of a single Chaos Power often project similar, even identical, forms in the warp. Their herd instinct and common heritage of power lead them all to create and project similar forms. Their forms come to reflect the thoughts and feelings their Power feeds upon - the Daemons of Khorne, for example, have forms that are violent in the extreme. The lesser Chaos Powers can also give birth to a Daemon. The ripples of warp space create short lived and very minor Powers, some of whom invest all their energy in a single Daemon. They become the Daemon, and gain independence from the warps ceaseless currents, exchanging the potential of greater power for the certainty of maintaining their current energy. Such Daemons are crude, insensate beings and even by the measures of Chaos, they are fickle, Only the weakest Powers choose such an existence. The final groups within the warp are creatures who owe little or no loyalty to the Chaos Powers. Astral Spectres, Astral Hounds, Enslavers and the like exist within warp space, but they are not creatures of Chaos. The danger they represent to Humanity is, however, in no way diminished. All Daemons are Falsehood. They are Lies, given the shape of creatures by the Power of Chaos. Fear the Daemons of Khorne for this reason and then fear them once more. Anon Stood from horizon to horizon, filling the air with their shrieks, gibbers and howls of blood. Their battle banner strained in the coppery wind that blew across their ranks. It was a banner of deepest, darkest red, with but a single rune and legend of simple devotion: Blood for the Blood God. At some secret signal all fell silent and then came a single shriek of dark and bloody loyalty, a pact of hate and death. It echoed from leathered skins, and grew to shake the clouds. And far above the Daemon's ranks, there was an answering roar of bloody approval, torn from Khorne's brazen throne The Tome of Blood Bloodthirster - Greater Daemon of Khorne (Khakakaozkhyshkakami) The Bloodthirster is the most powerful of all Chaos Daemons and the most mighty of the Blood God's warriors. It is impossible to describe the true horror of these daemons, for their appearance is enough to drive a rational man beyond the brink of sanity. Their presence radiates sheer terror, their body exudes the stink of death, and their eyes carry the promise of cold execution. Few who have seen a Bloodthirster have lived to tell the tale. Those who have confronted their terror and lived will recall an overwhelming impression of size and steaming energy, of glowing brass armour and blood-stained fur, and teeth like murderous blades. In its talons the Bloodthirster carries an axe that drips with blood and a long lash tipped with cruel barbs of fire. Fists of Khorne, Drinkers of Blood, lords of Skulls, Eaters of Gore and Flesh, Death bringers of Khorne, Blooded Ones, Guardians of the Throne, High-handed Slayers The Bloodthirsters are the most favoured servants of Khorne, and the greatest of his Chaos Champions aspire to joining their ranks. They exist purely for combat and combat alone. Their bloodlust extends far beyond mortal comprehension, and they will attack everything within their reach with terrible ferocity. They do not know fear other than of Khorne, and always act regardless of cost or consequences, although the usual consequences are death for whoever or whatever they face. Their immense pride in their fighting abilities rarely permits them to call upon allies or servants, and they usually rely only on their own strength and skill. The Bloodthirsters stand taller than a man, and are humanoid with a rangy, muscular build, faces like horned dogs, bestial legs ending in claw studded hooves and large, tough membranous wings. Their hides are covered with gore-flecked crimson fur, their wings are mottled black and crimson, their eyes are milky white without visible iris or pupil and heir horns and claws are the appearance of blackened iron. Their Chaos Armour is coloured in keeping with Khorne's own hues of black

and red. The Bloodthirsters wield great axes, often in conjunction with a whip. Their immense ferocity is coupled with an immense hatred for Slannesh and his servants and followers. The appearance and aura of a Bloodthirsters is among the most terrifying things a mortal can encounter, even the most brave, hardened and strong willed flee or lose their sanity before it. Those brave few who remain often have their courage rewarded with death, which may be more merciful than living with the memory of the encounter. Bloodthirsters have the ability to heal incredibly rapidly, regenerating even the greatest wounds, the only sure way to defeat them is to totally destroy their host bodies thus banishing them to the warp. Bloodletters - Khorne's Warriors of Death "Their baying chills the heart and spreads icy Tendrils of fear through weak mortal souls. And yet worse, yet more terrible to behold are the huntsmen of this fell pack. Following close upon the Hounds, urging them ever forward, come deformed beings, running and shrieking, shrieking and running, driven by the sate less bloodlust of their kind. With twisted crimson frames they spread across the blighted land, crouched over as if the better to track the terrorspoor of their prey. Masters of the Hunt, they seek the blood of Man to offer at the foot of the Skull Throne, ever hungry for fresh prey, ever willing to tear the warm red flesh with their talons and to smear the gore triumphant upon their curving horns." These most foul and ferocious of daemons descend upon their foe in massed hordes, driven crazy by the scent of blood, screaming with fury as they fall upon mortal flesh. They are Khorne's Warriors of Death, the foot soldiers of his daemonic armies, and their truly horrific appearance is an assault upon reason. Their skins are red and scaly and their long, muscular arms end in murderous talons which can rip a foe apart with cold-blooded ease. They carry long, jagged Hellblades which glow with power, and which, it is said, can drain the very soul from a man and suck dry his shrivelled corpse. Lesser Daemons of Khorne (Khak'akamshy'y) Khorne's Chosen, Takers of Skulls, Teeth of Death, Horned Ones, Naked Slayers The Bloodletters are the rank-and-file of Khorne's daemonic armies. The greatest of the Blood God's mortal followers may become Bloodletters, and the greatest of the Bloodletters may ultimately become "elevated" to the ranks of the Bloodthirsters. Like all Daemons of Khorne, the ferocity of the Bloodletters is boundless, and they will attack almost any foe without fear or thought of the consequences. Bloodletters often ride Juggernauts, the steeds of Khorne into battle, shrieking his praises as they do. The Bloodletter stand as tall as a man but, apart from their broad shoulders their framers are slender and wiry with long arms, elongated, horned skulls and twisted crested backs. Their naked hides are scaled, varying slightly in colour from deep red to near orange. Their faces are pale and skull-like, with milk-white pupil-less eyes. Their long black tongues loll from their razor toothed mouths. Their horns and claws are blacked and flecked with crimson. They wield wickedly sharp magical Hellblades of red-stained iron and brass. They also attack with their razor sharp claws and bite with their hideously toothed, poisonous mouths. They have the ability to spit their poison up to ten yards. Like Bloodthirsters, Bloodletters have the ability to regenerate even the greatest wounds, the only sure way to defeat them is to totally destroy their host bodies thus banishing them to the warp. Bloodletters attack with extreme ferocity against all opponents but inherit their patron's hatred for Slannesh, attacking with extreme zeal and hatred against his daemonic servants and followers. Flesh Hounds of Khorne The babbling tales of maniacs who have been exposed to the unshielded horrors of the warp speak of the blood-red hounds of Khorne, whose howls of rage haunt their sleep and whose memory stalks their every waking moment.

Their baying chills the heart and spread icy tendrils of fear through weak mortal souls. And yet worse, yet more terrible to behold, are the huntsmen of this fell pack. Following close upon the Hounds, urging them ever forward, come deformed shapes, running and shrieking, driven by the insatiable blood-hunger of their kind. With twisted crimson bodies they stride across the blighted land, crouched over as if the better to track the spoor of their prey's terror. Masters of the hunt, they seek the blood of Man to spill at the foot of their master's Skull Throne. Creatures of Khorne ( Khaaa Khakhyshk ) Beasts of Khorne, Hunters of Blood, Flesh-Renders, Inevitable Ones These terrible hunting beasts may be acquired by followers of Khorne, and they may appear among the retinues of his Daemons. Fleshhounds will fight to the death for their master, and are faultless trackers. Across the Chaos Wastes, packs of these terrifying creatures chase after their prey, endlessly pursuing the enemies of Khorne. Behind the packs run eager Bloodletters, urging the Hounds on with piercing whoops and shrieks of glee, ever-ready to spill blood for their demanding master. The Chaos Hunt is a fearsome sight indeed and few live to recount its gory pursuit. Physique: The Fleshhounds are hideously canine, and are some eight feet long from nose to tail. Their lean, wiry frames have an arched back, and are covered in blood-red scales. Around their necks is a ruff or collar of spines, connected by an orange-red membrane of taut flesh. This gives the neck added protection. Rows of iron plates are driven into the flesh along their backs, held in place by brazen rivets, each moulded in the shape of Khornes skull rune. Their apparently unseeing eyes are a milky white. Their wide mouths are equipped with huge, blood-stained fangs and their two-toed feet end in razor-sharp claws of iron. Juggernauts of Khorne Juggernauts of Khorne are massive riding beasts of groaning iron and brass. Their heavy, wide mouthed heads are filled with brazen fangs and their thick, powerful legs drive forward a huge body taller than a mans and many tons in weight. They are ridden by favoured Champions of Khorne, mighty Warriors who have proved their worth on countless battlefields across the galaxy. A charging Juggernaut is a terrifying sight; the ground trembles under its huge weight, while its ferocious bellowing drowns out all other sounds. As the Juggernaut smashes into the enemy, it hurls men aside or crushes them underfoot. Even armoured vehicles can be smashed apart by the Juggernauts almost unstoppable rampage. The Juggernaut is neither beast nor machine but a daemonic amalgam of both, a creature of living metal whose flesh is brass and whose blood is pure fire. They are said to be the most brutal of all Khorne's many daemons, and only the most favoured of his warriors are granted the boon of riding a Juggernaut into battle. Their broad brazen heads are like massive battering rams capable of pounding a building or crushing the most heavily armoured foe into a bloody pulp. Steeds of Khorne (Kha'a'a Akh'h) Blood or Soul Crushers, Juggers, Feet of Khorne, blights of Khorne "And to tell of this Beast: the like of it has never been Seen. He came upon a mighty steed of groaning iron And brazen steel, a thing of living metal that stood taller than a man And roared with all the furies of a thousand dead. He sat securely Proud in a deep saddle that grew out the very back of this accursed Beast, its high posts framing a massive head, part hound, Part bull, part the incarnate soul of bloody hate. As it Came toward us we saw its thousand close riveted plates, forged in dark fires and bound with runes. Its breath was fear and its every step a thundering of doom. As it bared its brazen, gore-speckled fangs, we lost all heart and turned, fleeing to the safety of the night and terrors still unseen." These riding beasts are occasionally granted to Champions of Khorne and are ridden into battle by the Bloodletters of Khorne.

The Juggers are quadrupeds with broad bodies, the heads of warped bull gods, powerful legs and heavy, wide-mouth. Their skins are made of living metal, riveted with Khorne's skull-rune. Their hindquarters are less heavily armoured than their massive forequarters. A saddle is often cut into the living metal of the beast's flesh. Juggers range in colour from vivid red-brandished steel to through to deep wrought-iron black. by their incantations, conjunctions and accursed crafts have seduced, depraved and corrupted both Man and Beast, bringing them low in the sights of others. Numberless are the enormities and horrid offences; beinous and wicked their every action. Revelling in perversity and debasement, twisted in mind and body, these insidious servitors of the Pleasure lord takes delight in all manner of abominable and unclean deeds. The Slaaneshi spread the depravity of Chaos to the unwary and uncaring with heretical crimes and disobediences that cry out against nature and the true order of the world. Amassed on the field of battle, the electric colours of their contoured forms offend the eye as their diseased lewdness offends the mind. Half bared torsos of pink and blue boost of unreined lust; others display limbs of glistening greens and yellows- pale shades of corruption which beide the darkness they bide inside. They have abandoned the last vestige of true decency and sacrificed their humanity to serve the Dark Power of the master of carnal Joys and spread his corruption among the innocent The Keeper of Secrets - Greater Daemon of Slaanesh (Qthlahsiisshoakshami) Slayers of Slannesh, Despoilers of the Flesh, Feasters of Pain, Great Horned Ones, Base Ones These huge and powerful daemons are only used by Slannesh when all else has failed. Violence is but a small part of Slannesh's nature, but when force is the only solution, these beings are perfectly equipped for it. They take a gloating, sadistic pleasure in killing and torture, and exist only for carnage. They take particular pleasure in destroying the creatures and followers of Khrone. It is said that they can hear anything that is said anywhere, in any dimension, and thus they are called "The Keepers of secrets". They may trade their knowledge for gifts or services. These massively built Daemons are reminiscent of Minotaurs in their general physique: their heads are horned and bovine, and they have an essentially humanoid body with two pairs of muscular arms. The upper pair end in immense crablike claws, and the lower pair in powerful humanoid hands. They have the single female breast that distinguishes all Daemons of Slannesh, and dress in a baroque costume of chain mail and leather armour. Colour varies widely but is always a pastel shade of red, orange, electric blue or vivid green. The insides of the ears, the palms of the hands and the soles of feet are generally a lighter, mottled shade of the same colour. Slaanesh is the Lord of Pleasure whose mere image evokes ecstasy in an unguarded mind. The Keeper of Secrets is held in especial horror by the Inquisition because of the sensual temptations its presence arouses. Few who have encountered this daemon can describe the shame of their desire, nor the lust for blood which overcomes their rational senses. The Keeper of Secrets is bedecked with gorgeous jewels, and delicate coloured silks overlay its hideous form. Its long chitinous claws are at the same time delicate and deadly, graceful but hideously destructive. The daemon's head is gross and bestial, horned and fanged in perverse contrast with the seductive aura which it exudes. The common man is like a worm in the gut of a corpse, trapped inside a prison of cold flesh, helpless and uncaring, unaware even of the inevitability of its own doom. Daemonettes - The Children of Slaanesh (Qtlahsitsuaksho) Children of Slannesh, Bringers of Joyous Dengradatlon, Givers of Indescribable Delight, Debauched Ones, Seekers of Decadence The Deamonettes are the most numerous of Slannesh's Daemonic followers, and serve his purpose in a number of ways. They fight as troops on the battlefield, and are occasionally granted as companions to Human followers of Slannesh. Like Slannesh, the Daemonettes are beautiful but

their beauty is perverse and unnatural, and causes loathing instead of admiration. They often ride into battle on mounts of Slannesh. The Deamonettes stand nearly as tall as a man, and are white skinned with deep green, saucer like eyes. Their figures and faces are something like those of Human women, but they have only one breast. They often decorate their bodies and their long, flowing white hair with a variety of bizarre designs, painted or tattooed on their skin onto their skin in the pastel colours of Slannesh. Slannesh's symbol endless repeated is the most popular motif. Their arms end in chitinous crab-like claws, and they have two-toed feet and a razor edged tail. They sometimes wear elaborate chainmail armour. None exposed to the Children of Slaanesh ever forget the tide of living sensuality, the writhing limbs, and the caress of razor-sharp claws against quivering flesh. It is a beauty which evokes loathing, a perverse sensuality which gnaws at the pit of the stomach. In appearance they are almost female, yet wholly daemonic, disturbingly seductive despite their bestial clawed limbs. Fiends of Slaanesh (Qqhashyythlis) Beast of Slannesh, Beastials, Rams of Slannesh, Unholy ones What manner of beast is this most bizarre of all creatures - the child of seductive nightmares or the spawn of horrors too terrible even to dream of? Who can describe what is an indescribable abomination? The hunting beast of Slannesh are often found accompanying his Daemons and are sometimes granted to his mortal followers. The Fiends appear as an unholy mixture of scorpion, reptile and Human. They have a segmented body with a broad, stingered tail and humanoid legs. From the front of the lithe body grows a row of humanoid breasts with a pair of arms which are sometimes used as front legs-the beast does not have the necessary intelligence to grip anything with them. The head is similar to that of a monitor lizard, and has a long tongue and a pair of horns. The torso of a Fiend is often a white or pastel shade. Their segmented rear bodies are a richly burnished shade of the same hue. Their legs are a dark complementary colour, with pastel-coloured or white feet. Their horns are a deep ivory colour, and their eyes a dark bottle green. Those who have lived through the nightmare recall little, their minds refuse to remember, leaving only the dim impression of writhing limbs and long lashing tongues, the inhuman squeals of delight, and faces contorted with the ecstasy of pain. But worse than even this is the overwhelming sense of sweet suffocation, a cloying evil whose seductive scent intrudes upon the memory forever. Steeds of Slaanesh (Qqhathashii) Flesh Lickers, Tongue Lashers of Slannesh, Degraded Ones, Whips of Slannesh These strange bipedal beasts are sometimes granted to followers of Slannesh and are frequently ridden into battle by Daemonettes. They do not attack in combat, but can move very quickly, and use their long tongues to ensnare their rider's opponents, making them easy targets. Mounts of Slannesh are bipedal, combining the appearance of a horse and an ostrich. They have two long, feminine legs and a crest of vivid green hair runs the length of the back. The glossy fur on the legs and upper parts of the body is a pale lavender colour, while the head, tail and underside are pastel yellow with molted deep red markings. They have a long, tubular snout, ending in a small mouth from which their long, electric-blue tongue shoots constantly back and forth. A high-pitched wail of delight and a flickering tongue as long as the daemon itself are the most abiding impressions of the Steed of Slaanesh. Upon its fleshy back ride the Children of Slaanesh, spurring the squealing creature with their prickly taloned feet. A long probing tongue flickers from the Steed's long, pliable muzzle. This whip-like member is the daemon's most dangerous weapon, for its slippery tongue can bind and trap an enemy, immobilising its victim whilst its rider administers the fatal blow. Great Unclean One - Greater Daemon of Nurgle Even the most battle hardened of the Ordo Malleus dread this foul daemon more than any other. It is the very image of the Plague God Nurgle himself - huge, green-skinned and bloated with

corruption. From open sores and swelling boils, pus and slime dribble over the daemon's leprous skin. Decaying inner organs protrude from rents in rancid flesh. From its gaping maw trickles a bubbling stream of vomit mixed with blood, maggots, and other foulness. Nurglings Nurgle's disgusting daemons spill into the world like a plague, riding upon a tide of tiny daemons which swirl about the horde like an infestation. These tiny daemons are Nurglings, small but malevolent things that feed upon corruption. Although tiny they are as hideous as their master, each a minute replica of Nurgle, round and bloated with disease. They swarm around the Greater Daemons, scurrying over their decaying bodies and sucking at boils for their nourishment, nestling within their master's spilling entrails for succour. Plaguebearer of Nurgle It is said that the fate of those who die of the foul disease Nurgle's Rot is to serve the Lord of Decay forever in the most disgusting form of a daemon called a Plaguebearer. Huge black flies lay their filthy eggs on these foul daemons, and clumps of maggots crawl and clamber over their putrid hides, feeding upon the putrescent matter that drips from their oozing sores. When the flies hatch, they swarm around the Plaguebearer in a buzzing cloud of vileness, and will turn upon and attack his enemies. The Plaguebearer's body is swollen with contagion, and churning innards spill from tears in their rancid skin. It has a single baneful eye and from its head sprouts a long horn. It is clawed hand the daemon carries a sword with a distorted barbed edge. This is the Plaguesword of Nurgle whose touch brings disease and death to mortal creatures. Beasts of Nurgle The head of this huge and slug-like daemon is fringed with fat tentacles from which oozes a paralysing slime. A creature overcome by this sticky slime will be collected after the battle and carried away to feed the broods of Nurgle. The Lord of Change - Greater Daemon of Tzeentch The appearance of this daemon defies mortal comprehension. An overwhelming aura of brightness surrounds this creature, and its wings and body shimmer with colours that defy human comprehension. None who have confronted this massive and terrifying daemon will ever forget its flashing multi-coloured plumage or its claws of iridescent crystal. But most terrible of all is the gaze of the Lord of Change, which is said to penetrate the very depths of a man's soul. Flamers of Tzeentch Flamers are amongst the most strange and disturbing of all daemons, their appearance is weird and extremely disturbing. Their lower portions resemble inverted mushrooms whose stalks have been transformed into muscular bodies. Flexible arms which spit searing flame sprout from the Flamer's unnatural body. Pink warp flame dribbles constantly from orifices at the ends of the Flamer's arms, roaring to life like living blowtorches as the Flamers attack. The daemon has no head, but its eyes and gaping maw lie between its swaying arms. In spite of its awkward appearance, the Flamer is an agile creature. Its muscular fungous body can fly with great strength, allowing it to move by jumping and bounding across the battlefield. Horrors of Tzeentch The survivors of daemon attacks are rarely fully sane or coherent. Scarce wonder that there are few reliable descriptions of these daemons, known only as the Horrors of Tzeentch. Victims babble incoherently about creatures made of blue and pink light, spinning, dancing monsters that bray and cackle as they whirl along dealing death with their long gangling arms. As they hop and whirl into battle the daemons glow with pink fire, and as they are struck each daemon divides into two blue creatures, which continue to fight with savage ferocity until overcome. Discs of Tzeentch The Discs are unspeakable creatures of warp space, shark-like predators that hunt the souls of mortal creatures in the endless seas of Chaos. They take the shape of flattened, plate-like creatures, with vicious teeth and sharp spines. They have no limbs and move by hovering over the ground. A

Champion of Tzeentch may ride a Disc into battle, soaring above his foes and smashing through his enemies. Generating Daemon Names This is provided as a tool for adding some character to your Chaos armies. There are no new game rules here, just pure old-style GW flavour. SM/TL players might want to use the following information to come up with names for their favourite Greater Daemons. Epic 40k players can do the same, and hopefully might find some inspiration for naming daemon and daemon engine detachments. Use what you like and forget about the rest. And above all, enjoy! Every daemon has a true name that they never willingly reveal to anyone or anything, as knowing a daemon's true name gives one power over that daemon (extremely strong daemons sometimes boldly proclaim their true names, a sure sign that the creature is too powerful for the knowledge to be of any help). As a result, daemons often adopt use-names to identify themselves. Use-names have no real power, and a daemon may adopt new ones from time to time depending on its moods. Generally speaking, the longer the name, the more powerful the daemon. Chaos champions can be gifted with True Names as they progress upon the path of chaos, but chances are the champion will continue to use his/her real name and not reveal the daemon name. Besides, "Rhug'guariihlulan's Berzerkers" just doesn't have a nice ring to it... Daemon True Names The True Name table appears below; it is used to generate "elements" (similar to syllables) of a daemon's True Name. Greater Daemons have a true name composed of (1d6 x the number of their Chaos god) elements. Roll that many times on the table and string the results together into a single word. Particularly powerful GDs will use 2d6 instead of 1d6 in the above formula. The number of elements in the true name of the god's other servants is equal to the Chaos god's number only. So for instance, a Lord of Change would have a True Name composed of 1d6 x 9 or 2d6 x 9 elements, and a Flamer of Tzeentch would only have 9 elements in it's True Name. Slaanesh's number is 6. Nurgle's number is 7. Khorne's number is 8, and Tzeentch's is 9. Second First Die Roll (d6) Die Roll (d10) 1 2 3 4 5 6 ----1 A COG FL LL SS CC 2 ER KW PP Z AA DA 3 FOL MM SH ABL DE G'G 4 N'N TH AE DH GZ O 5 THL AK DH HH OA TL 6 AN DU HL OE U AO 7 E I OO UL AR EE 8 II OW UU BH EO IL 9 RH Y IO EU IR PH 10 YY CH FF KS Q' ZH The book encourages you to re-arrange whatever is rolled to produce something more pronounceable (good luck) or more appealing. The example they give is "G'garulhliiulrhan", which they re-arrange to "Rhug'guari'ihlulan". Daemon Use-Names The table below is for generating elements of Daemon use-names. Roll four times on the table for Greater Daemons, and string the results together into two names of two elements each (one two three four). Use-names for lesser Daemons are one word composed of two elements. Second First Die Roll (d10) Die Roll (d20) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

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-blue dangle dreg fondle grind grunt mad pox quiver slash 2 suck thigh bane carnal fiddle hot mucus sate vex bubo 3 chew dog gibber gnaw grope maul offal pus spasm spittle 4 sword wrack cackle fang hammer mildew rot toad bile blister 5 canker eat fester flux glut hate ichor leper mire rend 6 rut skull spike tremble vomit wind brute dung glop gut 7 mark red spider thrash bag blade cold death face fist 8 grab gristle helm loon pest puke rip sharp spume sweat 9 vile whip blunt drink gall gross maggot rabid sore taint 10 worm belch bog buttock crush fire froth gobble grim liver 11 maim moulder pinch scratch slobber spew stare wart wobble blood 12 doom foul grin loose putrid slob sting wither axe black 13 break dread eye thrust fury grue heart loath mange quake 14 rheum scum smut tear twist water blast cut foam green 15 lewd plague slake squeeze whine ash beast chaos crab drool 16 fiend gnash grasp hack lick nibble pierce reap scab spite 17 spurt throb war beetle craze flesh gore lip pile sin 18 spot warp bend blight bowel clap fat flush fume gob 19 howl lust man ooze rotten sinew slug spoor venom wight 20 bite claw filth glutton kill pain scrape spine wail burble The tables are really just a guideline; ROC encourages you to fool around with whatever you roll up (or to just choose what you want off of the tables and not roll at all) in order to get something that you like and that suits the daemon. For instance, if you roll up "Suckthigh" for a Bloodletter, you might want to re-roll or just pick something suitably Khorne-ish like "Doomspike" (although the first name would be good for a Daemonette of Slaanesh). The book also encourages adding titles and whatnot to the name to make it sound more impressive, such as "Doomspike the Render of Limbs". So I've also included the alternate daemon titles for each daemon type found in the ROC books to provide some inspiration. When it comes to naming actual units in 40k or FB armies, the book encourages you to create a name for any greater daemons and assign a title to units of lesser daemons, possibly working in the

name of one of the lessers. So for instance you might name your Keeper of Secrets "Fluxcarnal Fleshpiercer" and your unit of Daemonettes "The Bringers of Joyous Degradation" or perhaps "Suckthigh's Bringers..." Daemon Titles Here are the alternate daemon titles, which should, at the very least, give Epic 40k chaos players some inspiration for detachment names. Khorne titles: Bloodthirsters: Fists of Khorne, Death bringers of Khorne, Drinkers of Blood, Blooded Ones, Lords of Skulls, Guardians of the Throne, Eaters of Gore and Flesh, High-handed Slayers; Bloodletters: Khorne's Chosen, Takers of Skulls, Teeth of Death, Horned Ones, Naked Slayers; Fleshhounds: Beasts of Khorne, Hunters of Blood, Flesh-Renders, Inevitable Ones; Juggernauts: Blood Crushers, Soul Crushers, Juggers, Feet of Khorne, Blights of Khorne. Slaanesh titles: Keepers of Secrets: Slayers of Slaanesh, Despoilers of the Flesh, Feasters of Pain, Great Horned Ones, Base Ones; Daemonettes: Children of Slaanesh, Debauched Ones, Bringers of Joyous Degradation, Seekers of Decadence, Givers of Indescribable Delight; Fiends of Slaanesh: Beasts of Slaanesh, Rams of Slaanesh, Beastials, Unholy Ones; Steeds of Slaanesh: Flesh Lickers, Degraded Ones, Tongue Lashers of Slaanesh, Whips of Slaanesh. Nurgle titles: Great Unclean Ones: Fly Masters, Plague Lords, Stench Lords, Father Nurgles; Plaguebearers: Tainted Ones, Maggotkin, Rotbearers, Nurgle's Tallymen; Nurglings: Pus Spores, Mites of Nurgle; Beasts of Nurgle: Beasts, Slime Hounds, Nurgle's Lapdogs. Tzeentch titles: Lords of Change: Watching Lords, Eyes of Tzeentch, Feathered Lords; Horrors: Whirling Destroyers, Grumblers, Screamers, Spinning Sourguts, Squealers, Whiners; Flamers: Burning Horrors, Fire Daemons of Tzeentch; Discs of Tzeentch: Sky-Sharks of Tzeentch.

Chaos Renegades
The most common threat to the Imperium comes from relatively small groups of raiders, invaders and space pirates referred to as Chaos Renegades. A typical force of Chaos Renegades is based around a core of one or more Champions of Chaos plus their attendant warbands. In most cases all the Chaos Renegades in a force come from a single world, and their troops comprise not only mortal Champions and their followers, but also a number of other followers of their Chaos Patron. Chaos Renegades are accustomed to war and death on their homeworld and regard the galaxy as little more than a giant battlefield. The logical extension of their existence is to find new battles to fight, fresh worlds to conquer, and new peoples to enslave on behalf of their chaotic master. The Chaos Renegades are often aided by other forces of Chaos. Among these are the Chapters of Traitor Space Marines which turned to Chaos during the Horus Heresy, and which still exist in the Eye of Terror. These Traitor Marines roam the various worlds over which their Patron Powers have cominion, joining warbands, sometimes becoming Champions and even progressing to become Daemon princes. Once of the most active Chapters of Traitor Marines is the Iron Warriors Chapter. This Chapter is dedicated to Chaos in its undivided Majesty and is based on the world of the Daemon Prince Perturabo. As they own allegiance to no Chaos Power in particular, they will often join with Chaos Renegades regardless of the Chaos Power they follow. When the Chaos Renegades land on their target worlds they may be joined by allies from among the world's own population, or by other marauding forces such as Orks or pirates. These allies are all too willing to join with Chaos Renegades and fight with them in return for a share in the spoils

of war. As the Chaos Renegades move out of the Eye of Terror and towards their targets they are joined by other Chaos sympathisers and all manner of freebooters. renegade leaders use the contacts with the Chaos Cultists and treacherous humans to direct their attacks as effectively as possible - appearing from nowhere to attack a vulnerable space convoy or a defenceless planet. Renegades also lend their weight to the Chaos Cultist risings on human worlds, with the ultimate aim of overthrowing Imperial government and installing the cultists in power. Cultists who join up with Chaos Renegades are sometimes taken back to they Eye of Terror where they enter the service of their master. Orks and human pirates, freebooters, and other nihilistic groups also join Renegades for a share of the loot - they don't really care which side they support and are quite happy to fight for Chaos against human or other forces. In this way many of the lawless and discontent elements of the galaxy are drawn to the service of Chaos - some make the mistake of returning to the Eye of Terror where they are caught in the endless cycle of battle and damnation. Among all the mortal worshippers of Chaos, the Chaos Renegades are the most corrupted of all. They have turned to the service of the Dark Lords of the warp, are willing perform any deed, no matter how foul, and have dedicated mind and body to the Chaos Powers. They are the Champions of Chaos of the Warhammer 40,000 universe, and as doomed as any other Champion of Chaos. Like all who follow a Chaos Power, Renegades end as hideous Chaos Spawn, mutants too warped and twisted to live, or they are absorbed into the warp as Daemon Princes. There is no escape from one or other of these fates; Renegades are destined to end their lives far removed from their original, natural state. Power drawn from the warp and gathered by the Renegade during his service to his dark master is the reward and promise of Chaos. The cost is never considered by a Renegade. He has chosen the easy path to power; that the path is short and dangerous is of little consequence. Renegades can be found in almost any part of the Imperium and beyond. Their vast and rotting space hulks are built from the remains of salvaged spacecraft, bio engineered and mutated creatures of deep space, and general debris of all kinds. The hulks drift across the galaxy, often dropping into and out of warp space. They are virtually indestructible, thanks to their sheer size and accretions of material. Only when boarded by Imperial troops is a hulk threatened; even then, the walkways and compartments of the hulk are as much a danger to the invaders as the crew. With crews and retinues of Chaos worshippers, mutants and misfits, a Renegade hulk is a danger for many planets within the Imperium. The Renegades hulk drifts into a system, he and his retinue teleport down to a planet, steal any transport and equipment they require, plunder the planet of resources, and retreat to the hulk before the arrival of the Inquisition or Imperial defence forces. The Renegade and his retinue slay indiscriminately in honour of their Chaos masters, taking only what they need for the next raid. Often, however, the Chaos Renegade grows careless and proud, and lands his forces with the intention of fighting and destroying Imperial troops. Chaos Renegades do not always flee into space to spread the taint of Chaos. They have also been known to remain on single planets, hidden at the centre of a coven network of worshippers, supporters and informers, manipulating all those they can reach to the service of Chaos. A hidden Renegade may have the power to command armies of followers, summon Daemons through rituals performed with his followers, and instil fear in many by his mere presence. Although mortal, the favour in which a Chaos Renegade is held by his Power can make him as dangerous and powerful as a Daemon. It has even been known for Chaos Renegades to settle on and conquer feral worlds replacing the Imperiums authority. Their new order dedicates a whole planet to the service of one of the dark Powers of Chaos. Such Chaos planets are scoured by the Inquisition whenever they are discovered.

Other Dark Forces

Beastmen

Beastmen are the foul spawn of the Chaos Gods, creatures so twisted by their mutations that it is impossible to tell whether their forebears were men or beasts. There are countless worlds in the galaxy where the forces of Chaos have triumphed, and where Beastmen reign in mankind's stead. They are violent and low-minded creatures, loud and coarse, capable of sustaining only the most rudimentary civilisation and the most debased culture. Such beasts revel in the destruction of man, and willingly flock to fight alongside the forces of Chaos. Beastmen are the true children of the Chaos Gods. Many of these creatures are simply mutants, created by exposure to some foreign agants or another. Persecuted and hunted out within the Imperium, they band together in herd and warbands throughout the galaxy. They are often led by a Slayer Lord - the most cunning and bloodthirsty of the Beastmen. It is he who leads them on raids against settlements. Most of the time the planets do not have a Planetary Defense Force, only local Militia groups. And these are not too much worry for the Beastman herds. On occasion though there has been full scale wars fought between Beastmen and the unlucky inhabitants of a planet. At this time, all the herd in the local areas will come together to form a single big warband. Most of the time, Beastmen are found in the ranks of other armies. By working with other races, they can gain access to spacecraft that can ferry them to other planets. Plus, they can then reap havoc on those that would usually hunt them down. Chaos Hounds Hounds of Chaos are wolf-like creatures whose ancestors may once have been ordinary canines, but which have become twisted and mutated by the power of Chaos. They are marked with hideous mutations such as horns, massive fangs, several heads, the tails of scorpions and other unimaginable horrors. Chaos Squats To the shame of the Squat race, there are many strongholds and Brotherhoods who have sided with Chaos. During the wars of the Horns Heresy, Squat forces fought on both sides, and inevitably some fell prey to the corruption of Chaos. Like the other followers of Horus, these have now largely been banished to the Eye of Terror, but there are always rumours of isolated groups of Chaos Squat raiders in various parts of the Imperium. It has even been rumoured that some of the strongholds which were lost to the warp storms in the Age of Isolation may have survived, their horribly-mutated inhabitants raiding into the Imperium from time to time. Khorne's squattish followers are unusual in that they are not often found on the battlefield. Instead, they serve their god by building and maintaining the weapons used in his service, from bolters and dreadnoughts through to Banelord titans. When they do appear on the battlefield - normally defending second line positions, or acting as direct support to Khornate war engines - their excellent equipment makes them formidable foes. The Possessed In the universe of the 41st Millennium, Daemons in real space have no forms of their own. They are creatures of the warp without physical existence, created from the energy of a Chaos Power. Within warp space a Daemon has no need of a physical body, but in the real universe a host body, a mortal, is required. Daemons enter real space mainly through ritual performed by mortal followers of Chaos. They are also capable of entering reality through the minds and bodies of unwary psykers. Latent psykers, those unprotected by the Emperors soul bonding, and the wild psykers who appear throughout Humanity are all potential gateways into real space for Daemons. The Inquisition has, over the years, attempted to contain and, where necessary, eliminate the threat posed by such unprotected minds. The Emperor has been sustained by the lesser psykers the Inquisition has rooted out, while the greatest have been pressed into the service of the Imperium. Millions have been sacrificed to the Emperor, thousands pressed into Administratum service, countless others drained to power the Astronomican, and still psykers appear unchecked throughout the Imperium. Constant monitoring of psykers by the Inquisition is the only practical policy. Relatively speaking, daemonic intrusions into the psykers minds are rare. The wickedness

spread by Daemons is, however, out of all proportion to their small numbers. A single Daemon can destroy any number of unprepared and ill-equipped mortals in open combat or, more insidiously, create a coven of worshippers about itself, spreading the hidden evil of Chaos far and wide as its does so. This warping is, however, always fatal for the original personality of the host. The host body twists and contorts out of all recognition, and its pain-wracked mind is destroyed by the unbearable mental and physical stress. The dead body, now hideously deformed, is driven on by the implacable will of the Summoned Daemon. Daemons can manifest themselves in the minds of unprotected psykers, who inadvertently draw on the warp when using their powers. More commonly, however, Daemons are brought into real space by hidden covens of Chaos-worshippers who use ancient and arcane rituals to open a gateway into reality. Such rituals must be carefully prepared, are time-consuming and dangerous, demand the services of many participants and often require a live sacrifice. A host, willing or unwilling, for the Daemon is also needed. The conditions attached to rituals limit their use to organized groups of Chaos followers: covens, Chaos Renegades and the exiled Space Marines of the Traitor Legions. However, such rituals are the only method of using the power of Chaos manifested in Daemons. Summoning and Possession The ritual used by a coven of Chaos worshippers controls the nature of a Daemons presence in real space. The power, abilities and hold on reality of a Daemon can take one of two forms, depending on the ritual used. Summoned Daemons can only exist in real space for a limited period of time. Much of a Daemons substance is brought into real space and confined within a mortal body. The host body is hideously distorted by this process, as the Daemon moulds its borrowed body to a shape that matches its warp form. The Daemon has free use of its new body for the short time it remains in real space before the stresses and strains of instability take their toll. The mortal who acts as a host for a summoned Daemon dies in physical and mental agony during the ritual. Summoned Daemons are the classic manifestation of wickedness: bizarre, otherworldly creatures of horrific appearance, great evil and almost unlimited powers. Possession by Daemons is a particularly insidious threat. A possessing Daemon has an unlimited tenure in a mortal host, as only a fragment of its power merges with the host. The mortal victim of possession is driven insane, although rarely killed outright by this process. Eventually the Daemon drives out its hosts mind and controls every action of its new, mortal body. Such a Possessed may be completely unmarked by the Daemon lurking within. Only the most powerful of hosts can ever hope to forge an alliance with a possessing Daemon. These strong-willed individuals, usually already committed to Chaos, cohabit with the Daemon, preserving themselves in a precarious corner of the possessed brain. Chaos comes in many forms. It taints and twists reality in strange, unfathomable patterns. In place of the obvious and gross warping of the Chaos Wastes, the darkness of Chaos must take on new, subtler forms. Possession by Daemons is an insidious manifestation of Chaos: hidden, invisible, an enemy within. Unlike a Summoned Daemon, who warps the external form of its host into a recognizably daemonic shape, possession leaves few external traces of its occurrence. Only a little of the Daemons power from the warp is brought into reality; the Daemon therefore has no need to twist its host into a comfortable form. Rather than show its presence in an obvious way, the Daemon watches and waits, poisoning the thoughts and wishes of its mortal allies and contacts. It merges with its host, an infection of the spirit that settles into the unused corners of the hosts mind. The host body becomes a Possessed. Initially a Daemon shares the mind and body of its host in the most intimate of manners, whether it has been brought into reality by a ritual or has occupied the unguarded mind of a neophyte psyker. At first, the changes brought about by possession are undetectable, being largely psychological and psychic. The Possessed often continues with a mortal life, twisted in the service of Chaos.

Occasionally, the host mind is strong enough to put up some resistance and prevent the Daemon from taking over completely. The mind of the mortal host retreats to a dark corner of the possessed brain, but it survives throughout the many changes its body undergoes, mute witness to the havoc wrought by the Daemon. Usually however, even the most unwilling host can be broken by the horror of possession. The Daemon becomes sole ruler of the host body, as the original mortal mind is driven into insanity, destroyed or confined by the Daemons stronger psyche. Once this has occurred the host is unimportant, and the body is truly that of the Daemon. However, the Daemons presence may become visible. Lacking a body of its own, the Daemon may be unable to completely manage its new frame and physical changes begin to appear, Gradually, the body of the Possessed mutates, sprouting new appendages and twisting into a grim distortion of its former shape. This becomes a never-ending process, as the presence of the Daemon further contorts the host body - even with the strongest host it is only a matter of time until the Daemon is betrayed. The Daemon is far from powerless if discovered. It may seek a new host, transferring its personality to a new, untainted mortal mind. Unable to cope with existence without the guidance of its possessing Daemon, the original host body convulses and dies during this transfer, while the new host body is overwhelmed by the invading psyche. The Daemon is then free to continue its Chaos-work, hidden once more within anothers spirit. Death is far from a guaranteed release from the manipulations of a possessing Daemon. A corpse can serve Chaos just as well as any other body, and a Daemons will may prove strong enough to motivate a dead and deathless corpse for centuries. Eventually, however, even the strongest will cannot prevent a body crumbling to dust. The Possessed and Undeath A Possessed can live beyond the natural death of its host body. The Daemons power remains within the twisted corpse and motivates it as a ghoulish, skeletal figure that lasts for a year and a day before crumbling into dust. This fate is only reserved for those unfortunate Possesses who die without achieving the warped aims of their patron

>>>The Chaos Fleets

Chaos in Action Page 67 - Port Maw Port Maw is the capital system of the Gothic Sector. The planet itself is the most productive hive world in the regiuion, with a population of over 200 billion people. Orbiting above the world are three Naval stations, including Fleet Command for the whole Battlefleet Gothic, Nexus Station the Gothic Sectors largest shipbuilding and repair station. Port Maws orbital defences outmatch even those of the Blackstone Fortresses and the Chaos fleet wisely decided not to launch an all-out attack against this base. Instead, the naval base was blockaded continuously for seven years by Chaos ships. During this time, only a handful of ships managed to slip into or out of the system and the need for food and supplies became great. After seven years, a brief break in the warpstorms around the sub-sector gave the battlecruiser, Sword of Redemption, and several other capital ships the opportunity to launch an effective attack, driving the Chaos blockade from the system and allowing the navy to make much-needed use of Port Maws considerable shipyard facilities. Page 85 - Warp Space The human colonisation of the galaxy owes its accomplishment to one thing - the nightmarish realm of warp space. Warp space lies alongside and around the material universe, a dimension comprised solely of shifting energies and formless consciousness. In warp space there is no time, no distances, only a constantly flowing stream of immaterium. A starship equipped with warp engines can break through the barrier that separates the real universe from the warp, thus removing itself from the normal flow of time. Only by travelling in the warp can the immense distances between stars be covered within a single lifetime, though even warp travel is not instantaneous. On board a ship in the warp a single month of perceived time may pass, yet in the material realm

anything from six months to several years may have elapsed. This can mean that fleets and armies responding to calls for aid may turn up weeks, months or even years too late to help and this further adds to the anarchy and confusion of conducting hundreds of wars across the whole galaxy. Navigating the Warp It is possible for a ship to make short warp jumps of about four to five light years with a certain degree of accuracy. However, over longer distances it is necessary to steer through warp space itself. The warp is like an ocean, with currents, storms and tides that must be used or avoided. For the Imperium, only the mutated Navigators are able to see the shifting eddies of the warp and direct a ship between them, thus steering the ship towards its ultimate destination. Even the Navigators need a point of reference, and this is provided by the immensely powerful psychic beacon known as the Astronomican. Guided by the minds of ten thousand specially-trained human psykers on Terra, the Astronomican pulses out 70,000 light years to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. A Navigator can sense the beam of the Astronomican and use it to plot his course. Weaker, shorter-ranged astropathic ducts and beacons are also used to mark out shipping lanes and to aid navigation through treacherous areas of the warp. Page 86 - The Eye of Terror Although the warp is a distinct dimension, generally separated from the material realm, there are a few areas in the galaxy where the boundaries of the warp and realspace are broken and the two intermingle with each other. These regions are roiling tempests of destructive energy, where the laws of physics are broken and the raw energy of the warp spills forth into our realm. The Eye of Terror is the largest of these, a tempestuous area where nature and nightmare are found side by side - worlds with seas of blood and skies of fire; moons that scream into the ether; stars that roam across the heavens, clashing together in gigantic supernovae. The Eye of Terror is the strongest fastness of the followers of Chaos, renegades who have turned from the Emperor and bargained their souls with ancient and evil gods in return for power and immortality. From the Eye of Terror these twisted traitors make forays and attacks, ever questing to bring about the downfall of the Imperium, to sweep away law and order and replace them with disorder and anarchy. Page 92 - The Gothic War 139-142.M41 - Omens of Darkness Many Imperial scholars believe the Gothic War to have started several years before the first invasion fleets actually entered the Gothic Sector. With hindsight, a number of seemingly unconnected events can be linked together, warning of the darkness and bloodshed that was to come. The Arx Raid Although the bulk of the Imperiums defences around the Eye of Terror are based in the area known as the Cadian Gate, there are many monitoring stations throughout the Segmentum Obscurus. These outposts are constantly raided and attacked by the Emperors foes, but during the mid-second century of the 41st millennium, the number of these attacks dramatically increased. Most importantly of all, in the eyes of scholars, is the attack on the watch station at Arx. Due to its low priority and importance, Arx was inhabited by only a skeletal garrison of Imperial Guard, whose duty it was to protect the few Tech-adepts required to maintain the stations observation equipment. Early in 139.M41, the scout frigate Ascendance received a garbled plea for help from Arx stations ageing Astropath. The attackers were unknown and when reinforcements arrived four months later, there was no sign of those responsible. The Imperial Guardsmen stationed on the planet had been wiped out. As Captain Thetic os the 122nd Borlian Imperial Guard wrote in his journal. They had been horribly butchered, their mutilated bodies left to the ever present scavenging wild dogs that are Arxs only predators. The Inquisition sent one of their agents, the experienced Inquisitor Horst, but there was little evidence for him to uncover. If Arx had been the only outpost attacked in this way, the raid would have become just another intriguing riddle in a galaxy full of mysteries, soon to be forgotten. However, over the next three

years a number of similar attacks were reported throughout the neighbouring systems and spreading into the adjacent sectors, and Inquisitor Horst began to suspect that some larger scheme was in motion. However, with no proof to support his instincts or identify the attackers, he decided to watch and wait for his enigmatic enemy to make another move. A Plague of Damnation Just over a year after the Arx raid, several patrol vessels made grisly discoveries in the Athena Sector. A number of Imperial merchant vessels and warships, one of them an Emperor class battleship, were found drifting uncontrolled through wilderness space. Upon being boarded, it was found that the crews of the ships were all dead, their disease ridden corpses strewn along corridors and gantries, some found still at their workstations. Xebal Astolax, Magos Biologis of the Adeptus Mechanicus, listed the various symptoms he encountered on his examination of corpses from the merchant vessel Shanxi. The skin was blistered with many weeping sores, the blood thin and watery. Fungal growths were found within the brain cavity, which must have caused extreme pain and delirium when the victims were still alive. Each ship also bore the scars of a brief space battle and signs of being boarded, though no enemy dead could be found. As Inquisitor Horst puzzled over these new developments, his many agents and spires brought more news. A rumour was spreading amongst the captains of the Imperial Navy concerning an ancient, despised Chaos ship known as the Plagueclaw. Crewed by pestilential followers of the God of Decay, this ship had been the scourge of the Imperial Navy for four millennia. The infection of the ships crews and the reappearance of the Plagueclaw must have been more than coincidence and when a force of Chaos Marines from the Death Guard Traitor Legion sacked the hive world of Morganghast, Horst was convinced that the forces of Chaos were planning another incursion. The watchposts around the Cadian Gate were put on close alert and Navy ships from all over the Segmentum Obscurus were detailed on increased patrols around Cadia. Anarchy Spreads While Inquisitor Horst investigated the Chaos activity around Arx and its neighbouring systems, events began to take an even more sinister turn in the Gothic Sector, 2,500 light years away. The Navigators of the Navis Nobilite reported greater disturbance within the warp around the region, the incidence of warp storms gradually increasing as the year went on. On many worlds, this news was received with panic, a situation which was made more precarious by several religious fanatics declaring that the Emperor was displeased and was sending warp storms to purge the unholy. This led to a number of sects forming, members stricken with feelings of impending doom. They were desperate for the Emperors forgiveness and as the shocked preacher of Flexeburg noted: They spend their whole time flagellating themselves to purify their souls, decrying the excesses of their fellow men and driving their neighbours to cast out the sinful and purge their own blasphemies. Though very laudable behaviour in itself, they have forgotten their sacred duties to the Emperor - while they wail and gnash their teeth, the coffers rattle emptily! On many planets, the cults became very powerful, swelled by popular support to such a degree that the Ecclesiarchy (and sometimes even the planetary government) could do nothing to stop the rampaging mobs. As the hysteria spread, lynch mobs roamed hive cities and mining colonies seeking the impure. Impromptu burnings and hangings became commonplace as the desperate citizens threw themselves into a fervour of apocalyptic faith, scouring their friends and loved ones to atone for real or imagined sins against the Emperor. Yet it was to no avail. Fleet-Admiral Bratha, when sending a message to the naval base at Port Maw, lamented, And still the warp swirls and rages and the situation becomes ever more desperate. Under cover of widespread paranoia, secret cults and covens insinuated themselves into positions of power, subverting ever more people to their twisted causes. Misguided followers of the Dark Gods openly proclaimed that Chaos would save humanity when the Emperor had turned from them. Thousands, even millions, of Imperial citizens were deluded by these false promises, flocking to these calls, and the Inquisition was hard pressed to root out every cult member, deviant and

heretic. To make the situation worse, several naval vessels were destroyed in dock, by reactor overloads and magazine explosions. Though official reports declared the incidents were the result of poor maintenance, faulty ammunition or other causes, many readily believed the tales of sabotage and rebellion within the Navys own ranks. The Hand of Darkness While the Gothic Sector was being engulfed in anarchy and confusion, Horst was searching for more clues as to the plans of the heretics. When he heard of a Chaos attack on the Imperial world of Purgatory, he demanded to accompany the investigating fleet. There was one thing that made Purgatory different from the dozens of other raids - the device known only as the Hand of Darkness. Its existence known only to a few of the most trusted members of the Inquisition, the Hand of Darkness was an incredibly ancient alien artefact buried deep beneath the surface of Purgatory. All attempts to divine its purpose had proved fruitless, yet distant legends, from older races such as the Eldar, spoke of the Hand of Darkness with horror and revulsion. It was widely believed to be a weapon of immeasurable power, although its exact functioning was a mystery. When Horst arrived at Purgatory, the Inquisitors deepest fears had come true - the Hand of Darkness was gone. If the followers of Chaos learned how to activate this unimaginably potent weapon, who could tell what destructive power they could unleash on the forces of the Imperium? The Invasion of Ornsworld Horst knew of another artefact connected to the Hand of Darkness in the old myths. Called the Eye of Night, it was located on the Ratling planet of Ornsworld. As Horst sped towards it on the fastest ship he could commandeer, a report came in of an attack on the Ratlings. A small force of renegades had landed close to where the Eye was embedded in an ancient statue, worshipped as a god by the Ratlings in pre-Imperial times. After a brief skirmish, an Imperial Guard recruiting force stationed near the Chaos forces landing site drove off this initial foray. However, a month later Chaos ships blockaded Ornsworld and a full scale invasion began. The defenceless Ratlings stood no chance against the depraved Chaos Marines and the death toll reached millions as the hills and mountains were scoured with fire and shells by the followers of the Dark Gods. Lieutenant Compton-Hawkins, attached to the recruitment team, recorded the scenes that followed the attack: Piles of Ratling skulls towered over the plains, funeral pyres blackened the skies as the Traitors systematically wiped out everything in their path. The small settlement of Esmereldas Dale is now but a smoking crater, the bones of its 4,000 inhabitants crushed to powder and scattered over the surrounding area. A powerful seismic detonator brought down the [mountainside of the] Great Belly, sweeping away seven towns and 82,000 Ratlings, in tide of crushing boulders and boiling mud slides. Amongst the carnage, the Eye of Night was torn from its mounting and the thief slipped away into the stars. The forces of Chaos now had both the Hand of Darkness and the Eye of Night and with them perhaps the power to overthrow the Imperium in its entirety. Inquisitor Horst was tormented by a single question: where would they strike first? The answer was to come all too soon. The Storm Breaks The old Inquisitor began compiling scattered reports of unusual activity in an ever widening area, and learned of the disruption engulfing the Gothic Sector. As he headed for the region, more reports of sightings of Chaos vessels came to Horsts attention, reinforcing his belief that the Gothic Sector was to be the arena of this latest incursion. A month after Horst arrived in the sector, three years after he had begun investigating the Arx raid, a cataclysmic shockwave passed through the warp. The massive storm engulfed the Gothic Sector in swirling tempests, cutting the area off from the rest of the Imperium. Whatever happened next, the ships and warriors of the Gothic Sector would face it alone. 143.M41 - Surprise Attack The first outright battles of the Gothic War were fought as the year 143.M41 came to a close. During the first few months of conflict, Chaos fleets launched a number of wide-ranging all out attacks against Imperial Navy bases within the sector. The First Strike

Reports of attacking Chaos fleets flooded in from all across the Gothic Sector. Much planning must have gone into the all-important first strike, as the Chaos fleets targeted a dozen major Imperial bases in the Gothic Sector. With no warning, the renegades struck hard and fast. Ambushing Imperial warships as they were caught in dock or orbiting around their stations.. Caught unawares and already overstretched by the increasing tension within the sector, the Imperial navy was poorly prepared to respond to this sudden offensive. At Bladen, the Rhadamanthine had her starboard flight decks blown clean off by torpedoes, while at Cherys, Doomfire bombers from the Heartless Destroyer damaged the warp engines of the Lord Sylvanus that it took two years of constant repairs for the ship to be able to make warp jumps greater than five light years. Orbiting stations also fell to the Chaos invaders, destroyed or captured by the swiftness of the attack. The loss of many of these orbital shipyards, such as Tripol Docks, Port Imperial and Gathara Station, was doubly felt - not only were Imperial ships badly in need of refitting, but the means to do so were being put to use by the enemy. Captain Grove of the Admiral Drake, an old Relentless class cruiser used as a training vessel, was one of the few survivors of the attack at Halamnet Base in the Cyclops Cluster, which typified the style of attack used by the Chaos vessels/ Grove and his crew were lucky to escape, as this log entry shows: 4th Watrch, 3rd day of Euphistles. Under attack from renegade vessels. They approached from starward blinding our surveyors. Long range torpedo strikes have destroyed the Vanguard [a Dauntless class light cruiser]. Broke from dock with the reactors still at 75% of operational capacity. Engaged in short ranged exchange with a squadron of renegade escorts, disabling our starboard batteries and destroying the torpedo tubes. Fires broke out in the port quarter galleries; the emergency bulkheads had to be lowered. Casualties extimated at 5,000 or more, many of them gun crews on the starboard decks. We are attempting to disengage, trying to avoid the a Slaughter class cruiser coming in around Halamnets gravity well. Ordering all available power to the engine rooms to outrun him. Time to visit chapel and pray for the Emperors protection. Fortunately for the crew of the Admiral Drake and many others, the Chaos fleets were not normally disposed towards lengthy battles, preferring instead to hit hard and then retreat, leaving the Imperial Navy suffering heavy losses, with many capital ships destroyed or needing months of repairs and refitting. The Defence of Orar However, the Chaos fleets did not achieve total success. In a few battles the traitors suffered serious reversals, most notably during the defence of the hive world Orar. When one of the many Chaos warfleets, led by the Chaos Warmaster Malefica Arkham, ambushed the Imperial battlegroup which was stationed at Orar, they did not, on this occasion, find their enemy taken unawares and helpless. Having just received orders to help put down a rebellion in a neighbouring system, the Imperial battlegroup, led by Captain Compel Bast on the battlecruiser Imperious, was just preparing to break orbit. Already at full alert status, the Imperial ships easily avoided the raiders initial torpedo salvo and counter attacked. What happened next is best summed up by Bast himself: Unable to abort the attack, the Chaos ships swept onwards into a hail of torpedoes, gun deck fire and lance shots from Orars orbital defences. Our nova cannon struck the reviled renegade Soulless full on, crippling the vessel in ahuge blast of gas and debris. Extra beverage rations to the gun crews that night. As we closed in for the kill, the other Chaos ships abandoned their fellow vessel to its fate and attempted to escape. With a torrent of fire pouring into its breached hull, the Soulless finally destroyed itself as its warp drives imploded under our continuous bombardment. Arkhams ship, the Deathbane, had its bridge smashed to pieces by a volley of fire from the Iron Duke, and rumours say that Arkham was the only man on the bridge to crawl from the wreckage, somehow protected by his Dark Masters.

I cited our attack craft crews for their admirable performance of their duty. Several of our bomber wings were instrumental in reducing the Deathskull to a hulk. Unfortunately, we were unable to claim our prize as the hulk was gripped by Orars pull and broken asunder in the upper atmosphere. Only a handful of Chaos escorts escaped without damage and the Deathbane and its fleet were pursued out of the system by vengeful Imperial commanders. Unlikely Allies Orar was not the only major set-back inflicted upon the forces of Darkness during the opening stages of the war. In one incident, a small Chaos fleet consisting of several Iconoclast and Infidel class escorts, bound for a raid on Denerair in the Cyclops Cluster, fell foul of the numerous bands of Ork pirates in the region. The garbled transmissions of the Chaos ships were intercepted, giving some idea of what happened. Using their traditional tactic of lurking in an asteroid field for an unwary victim, the Orks leapt from hiding and plunged into the heart of the Chaos fleet. Unable to use their greater manoeuvrability in the swirl of asteroids, gas and dust clouds, the Chaos ships were mercilessly hammered by the Orks and not one Chaos vessel survived the battle. Upon hearing this news, Lord Admiral Ravensburg was quoted as saying, If he wasnt damned green-skinned scum, Id make their commander my Flag-Captain! although he later denied this statement. Such occurrences were however rare and the greenskins were as happy to continue attacking Imperial shipping as they were to fight against the invading warfleets. The Battle of Blackstone IV The initial Chaos attacks struck at important installations such as the Adeptus Mechanicus forge worlds and naval bases. Of the seventeen bases in the Gothic Sector, six of them were founded on the Blackstone Fortresses. As the Liber Monumenta tells us: The architects of the edifices known as the Blackstone Fortresses remain unknown. All analysis of their materials and construction methods has proved inconclusive. Attempts to date them vary massively between seventeen thousand years and three hundred thousand years. They have remained dormant since their discovery early in the second millennium of the Emperors divine rule. Even with most of its systems inoperative, a Blackstone Fortress mad an incomparable foundation for a naval base. After extensive refitting by the Adeptus Mechanicus, with Imperium constructed defence turrets and primary weapons systems added, the Blackstone Fortresses defensive capabilities rivalled those of Port Maw itself. It was the pride of Battlefleet Gothic that no Blackstone Fortress had ever been taken in battle. This was to change at Rebo system, where the naval base Blackstone IV orbited the systems fifth world. A Chaos fleet, probably led by Abaddon himself, struck at Rebo V. The Imperial ships on station put up a ferocious defence, but were overwhelmed by the size of the fleet facing them. Twenty capital ships, including two Despoiler class battleships and a score of escorting vessels, swept through Rebos outer defences and attacked Blackstone IV itself. The battle was short and bloody - just as the Chaos fleet approached within rangfe, the Blackstone Fortress power systems shut down completely. With the energy grid dead, the guns were unable to fire, the armoured gates of the attack craft bays couldnt be opened and the personnel on board were defenceless. Soon after this information was projected by the stations Chief Astropath, Blackstone IV fell to invaders. There was no more news from Rebo and it was assumed that there were no survivors. This was to be the first of a number of critical blows that shook the Imperial forces right from the outset of the war. The Death of Savaven Even as Abaddon pushed home his attack at Rebo, more disaster was to befall the loyal defenders of Gothic Sector. At Savaven, a Cardinal world of the Ecclesiarchy, the few system defence ships could do little to protect their planet against a new and awesomely powerful vessel. Simply dubbed the Planet Killer, this monolithic ship bristled with gun decks, lance batteries and torpedo launch systems. As the defence monitors withdrew from its implacable advance, the Planet Killer

achieved orbit over Savaven. Jeremiah Soldagen, commander of the orbital defence forces, was later to record the dreadful events to follow: Within [the Planet Killers] central cavity, we could detect a massive power surge. Energy crackled from a number of ports on the hull. Then, with a blast that blotted the sun from our scanners, it opened fire. The energy beam lasted for about a half hour. Emperor knows how they could generate that much energy. We linked to the planetary surveyors to see what was happening on the surface. That bolt bored its way through miles of the planets crust and seared through the mantle beneath. As the attack finished, the magma surged forth through this continent-sized wound, breaking Savaven apart from within. The seas boiled into the skies, the icecaps melted and whole continents sunk beneath the tidal wave. With such an unimaginable release of energy Savaven was blown out of her natural orbit and flipped over on her axis. I guess nobody was alive by then, but if they were they didnt last long. Like a rations pack crushed in your fist, Savaven just crumpled in on herself, then broke up into thousands of fragments. Theres just an asteroid field there now, really dense, impossible to navigate. There were fourteen billion people living on Savaven. Fourteen billion dead in an hour. Soldagen and the other survivors were to suffer traumatic mental breakdowns from what they witnessed and three months later they all took their lives in a mass suicide. The effect on Imperial morale was devastating. All had heard of Exterminatus with fusion torpedoes, virus bombs and mass drivers, but to know the enemy had the ability to destroy an entire planet, not just all life on it, must have been the most chilling thought that any naval crewman had ever faced. As the Imperial Navy reeled at this news, Inquisitor Horst was left wondering if this was the power gained from possession of the Hand of Darkness and the Eye of Night. If it was something else, then perhaps even worse was to come. Trouble with the Eldar A constant problem for Lord Admiral Ravensburg, commander of the entire Battlefleet Gothic, was the presence of a large number of Eldar in the sector, making swift forays from their hiding places within the Graildark nebula. It is even widely believed that an Eldar Craftworld was in the Gothic Sector during the war, though there were no confirmed sightings and its location was never determined. Of the pirate forces plaguing the Imperium, the force called the Executioners became highly active as the Gothic War progressed, until the number of raids and attacks had increased from three in 143.M41 to eight in 147.M41. Unable to track the Eldar ships back to their base and strongly suspecting that they were in some way connected to the elusive Craftworld, Ravensburg could do little to defend against the aliens and it was up to individual battlegroup commanders how best to act against their slippery foes. The Wolf Packs Gather Not only the Eldar preyed upon the transports and merchantmen of the Imperium. Bands of human pirates, renegades from the Eye of Terror and even the vessels of other alien races all increased their activity. Called Wolf Packs by the Naval officers who chased them, these roving bands of small vessels hunted the ships and convoys of anybody and everybody. Admiral Koburn, of the Second Battlecruiser Fleet, noted bitterly: If it came to a straight fight, they would be no match for our guns. But [the raiders] are canny, and never risk open battle if they can avoid it. The packs nibble at the heels of our convoys, capturing a single transport here, a merchant vessel there. Their favourite tactic is to lurk in asteroid fields or to operate from deserted moons, where they are almost impossible to detect and even harder to root out. I even heard of one band that docked in a station in the upper atmosphere of a gas giant in the Fullarn system. Every month brings more reports of their attacks, but we cannot spare more ships from the battlelines to escort the convoys. The Imperial fleet was fighting two enemies at once: the Chaos battlefleets and the Ork, Human and Eldar pirates that had been a constant threat to Imperial shipping even before the Gothic War began. Everywhere the Imperial forces were on the defensive, driven from world upon world,

system upon system. Losses were high and the shipyards and orbital stations fought an ever increasing battle for supplies and manpower. Darkness had descended on the Gothic Sector and it looked as if the light would never return. 144.M41 - The Blackstone Fortresses The Imperium was beset by many Chaos fleets led by individual Warmasters (estimates vary from eight enemy fleets to twenty or more). Each was a rival to any battlegroup Lord Admiral Ravensburg could muster at the time. One in particular, led by the hateful Abaddon himself, was to pose the most serious threat of all. Lukitar Station With the threat of Abaddons Planet Killer looming over them, many Imperial worlds surrendered without a fight. Sub-sector after sub-sector fell out of Imperium control and with them a number of shipyards and orbital docks. As the Imperium faced increasing difficulties in repairing its vessels, building new ones became ever more unlikely. With its early critical strikes, Chaos may well have one won the war before it had even started. There was some hope for the Imperial Navy. On a desolate moon orbiting a gas giant in the Lukitar system was an Adeptus Mechanicus facility. The Tech-Priests were already researching the wisdom of their predecessors to uncover knowledge of more powerful weapon systems, more efficient drives and better shield generators. A few Imperial ships were fitted out with these improved systems, but the results were never entirely satisfactory. A ship could only provide so much power and if gunnery was improved, communications would suffer; if the engine power was increased, the shield generators could not be sustained. The search continued, with each new development slightly more successful than the last. Then the ships of Abaddon arrived. Commodore Vandez commanding 202 Red squadron, consisting of four Sword class frigates, was among the first Imperial vessels to sight Abaddon since his attack on Blackstone IV. 2nd Dog Watch, 19th day of Aphrodael, Lukitar system. The reports from the guardian stations were correct. Our assayers have picked up an energy pulse of unimaginable magnitude. The crew are whispering fearfully of the Planet Killer, but that was last sighted in Saviour, 65 light years away. We are proceeding at full power to investigate. 9th Watch, 19th day of Aphrodael, Lukitar system. Even seeing it with my own eyes, I do not believe it! Several renegade capital ships are heading in-system, with a dozen escorts. With them is a Blackstone Fortress! Damn my eyes, but its true! It looks different, more organic; somehow alive, if that were possible. Our surveyors have picked up several weapon systems which are not Imperial in construction. How have they managed to wake the beast? Emperors blood, theyre building up the energy to fire, even at this range. 3rd Watch, 1st day of Sanacleus, Immaterium. We have left behind what remains of Lukitar station. The captured Blackstone Fortress proved almost impregnable to our weapons, those few of us who could fight through to attack it. It has weapons the like of which I have never seen, even when fighting Eldar pirates, or chasing down Fraal raiders in Bhein Morr. The Fortress has pummelled Lukitar station to rubble, taking only a few minutes with all its armaments brought to bear. It is only a seven light year jump from here to Brinaga where Blackstone VI is stationed. We are proceeding to Brinaga to warn them of the attack, for I believe the renegades will attempt to capture another of the Blackstones. I pray to the Emperor we can stop them. Even with Vandezs warning, there were few available ships left to defend Blackstone VI. As with the capture of the first Fortress, the Chaos followers had some means of controlling the Blackstone Fortresses from afar, able to shut down its power systems and turn it into a death trap for the tens of thousands of personnel aboard. Brinaga system fell to Abaddon four months after the attack on Lukitar. Immeasurable Power While Lord Admiral Ravensburg pondered the many military and logistical problems facing his

isolated sector, he was visited by Inquisitor Horst. What passed between them was never recorded, though it is widely believed that the revered Inquisitor told Ravensburg of the Hand of Darkness and the Eye of Night. A plan was formulated to try to recapture the Blackstone Fortresses by covert means rather than open attack. However, before this plan achieved any visible results, news came through of another assault by Abaddons fleet, this time at Blackstone I in the Fularis system. The personal log of First Lieutenant Elijah Borgia of the Vindictive was recovered from the hulk of the ship, found floating towards the Fularis star: We are in luck today. [Abaddons fleet] has attacked from the other side of Fularis II, which means theyll have to dare the orbital and planetary defence systems to get to Blackstone I. We have only just upgraded our weapons on Fularis II for just such an occurrence and I doubt that even with his two Fortresses, our enemy will survive. Borgias early optimism was to be cruelly shattered: The two Blackstones have taken up station five thousand leagues from each other, some seventy five thousand leagues from Fularis II and just out of range of the weapons platforms, except for the torpedo launchers. We are picking up an energy surge in the two Fortresses: theyre powering up for something. Tech-Priest Flavix says theres some kind of energy exchange between them. Emperors teeth, I can see it myself now, a column of shifting energy linking the two fortresses together. The surge is still rising, the power beam becoming more visible. The damned Astropath is screaming now, yelling something about a breach in warp space. What hell-spawned trick are they up to? Oh my Other recovered evidence points towards an energy beam being unleashed towards Fularis II. The Vindictive was caught full on, her shields overloaded instantly and outer hull vaporised as the energy wave crashed over the ship. Fularis II was later found with its atmosphere stripped off and the surface scoured to a rocky plain. Of Blackstone I, there was no sign. 144-149.M41 - The War Continues Across the entire Gothic Sector the Chaos and Imperial fleets clashed. For five years the battles continued, with the death toll on both sides running into millions. Planets were invaded and recaptured, fleets ambushed, bases attacked and all the while the sector was isolated from any outside help. Slaughter Among the Stars From the Hammerhead Deeps to the Cyclops Cluster, Imperial ships fought desperately to hold back the Chaos ships that spilled into the Gothic Sector. In some areas, the Emperors forces were hurled back by the ferocity of their foes, while other regions, protected by more skilled or experienced battlegroup commanders, held against the initial impetus of the Chaos attack. It is impossible to chart exactly the ebb and flow of battle and many worlds changed hands four, five or even six times during the period of fiercest fighting. By 147.M41, the Lysades sub-sector was almost entirely overrun and Chaos ships held sway over a dozen systems surrounding Port Maw. However, in the Cyclops Cluster the Orks gave the Chaos vessels stiff resistance and from staging points in the Quinrox Sound, the Imperial fleets launched many counter-attacks, pushing back the spread of Chaos for months before being forced to turn their incursions elsewhere. While the Imperial Navy and the renegades duelled across the stars, the attacks from Orks, Eldar and Human pirates increased. With the watchful eye of the Imperial Navy elsewhere, these bandits had an almost free rein. Convoys were captured, raiding parties sacked cities and on dozens of worlds, millions died from disease and starvation. Those convoys that did get through often found enemy warships prowling through their destination system, blockading all craft entering and establishing a stranglehold on the worlds they besieged. On the hive world of Stranivar three hive cities, with inhabitants running into a hundred billion souls, were overcome with rioting due to the shortages of drinking water. With no incoming supplies, the worlds own recycling centres were unable to cope and four fifths of the population died from dehydration before the next convoy managed to break through the Chaos blockade. The docks and shipyards were frequently starved of supplies and ships which put in for repair and re-arming were often sent into battle with only

makeshift refits and half-empty magazines. The Pirates' Haven While Lord Ravensburgs forces struggled with the ships of the Chaos Warmasters, the Imperial fleet made significant progress against another deadly foe. A rough confederacy of nearly two dozen pirate bands had gathered in the Quinrox Sound. With over 50 escort-sized vessels, a captured Gothic class cruiser and two salvaged Lunar class cruisers, the marauders had become a serious threat to the security of shipping in the sub-sector. Lord Admiral Ravensburg, unable to turn his attention from stemming the Chaos incursion, order Fleet-Admiral Mourndark to deal with the pirates in any way he saw fit. Mourndark drew ships from battlegroups across the sector, including the Sword of Orion, Havock, Uziel, Fortitude and the fearsome Cypra Probatii. Along with these capital ships, Mourndark also took command of the 24th Destroyer Squadron [Widowmakers], the 1st Frigate Echelon [Eagle Claws] and the Sword class frigates of the Anvil 206 Patrol Flotilla. With a large convoy of empty transports, Mourndark lured the pirates into attacking. When the Imperial ships counter-attacked, Mourndark ordered that at least one of the renegades be allowed to escape. With the aid of the Master Navigator Absalom Draal, Mourndark and his fleet were able to follow the surviving pirates back to their lair in Barbarus Costa system. Confident in their knowledge that they were safe in their den, the pirates had given little thought to their defences. The Imperial attack came as a total surprise, as Mourndark concluded in a report to Lord Ravensburg after the battle: We fell upon them like hounds at a chase. They tried to scurry and bolt for their holes, but my escorts were ready for them. The Cypra Probatii herself claimed fifteen kills that day and their losses must have been in excess of thirty ships in total. Many fled to the surface of Barbarus III, thinking themselves safe from our guns. How wrong they were. Using plasma torpedoes modified by Magos Urilan of the Adeptus Mechanicus, we set fire to the atmosphere of the near-deserted world, burning them out. Only three vessels emerged from the conflagration, asking for clemency. Our guns showed them the mercy of the Emperor! With a large proportion of the pirates dealt with in one blow, Ravensburg was able to concentrate his forces onto fighting back against the Chaos fleets once again. 150-151.M41 - The Imperium Resurgent For the first seven years of the Gothic War, the Imperium had been fighting defensively across an extended battlefront. As 150.M41 passed into the year 151.M41, Lord Admiral Ravensburg decided to take the fight to the enemy and claw back what had been taken. The Battle of Gethsemane Knowing that although the Chaos ships were more numerous overall, they were divided into many smaller fleets, it was Lord Ravensburgs hope that he could destroy his attackers if he could bring the weight of Battlefleet Gothic to bear against each of the Chaos fleets individually. This was a very risky ploy, because to amass the battlefleet in any strength meant weakening convoy escorts, system patrols and squadrons on anti-pirate duties. Ravensburg stated his reasons in a missive to Inquisitor Horst, saying: These are troubled times that require resolute action. If we do not act boldly and with the confidence of the Emperor we will be bled dry within ten years and we will have lost the whole sector to our enemies. Not only will a decisive blow eliminate enemy vessels, it will send a message to the Chaos fleets, it will send a message to the Chaos fleets and the Imperial forces alike - the Imperium is not going to give up without a fight. After numerous aborted attacks and false starts, Ravensburg saw his first real chance in mid 151.M41, when scout vessels reported a Chaos fleet moving en masse towards the Gethsemane system. Ordering his task force to get underway with all possible speed, Ravensburg took personal command aboard the Divine Right. With seventeen capital ships (including two battleships and two battlecruisers) and twenty escorts under his command, Ravensburg pursued the enemy fleet into the Gethsemane region. Suddenly becoming aware of their plight, the Chaos forces headed out-system to try and get far enough from Gethsemanes star to make a warp jump. Ravensburg detached the fastest vessels in his fleet to pursue and a week-long sternchase ensued. What happened next was

recorded in the memoirs of Captain Blythe of the Guardian: As we followed the fleeing foe, signals came in warning of another enemy fleet on a closing course. We had been lured into a trap! Bolstered on by a further twelve ships, the Chaos fleet turned on us and it was all we could do to evade the bulk of the enemy. Even in doing so, we lost three destroyers and four frigates in a series of small skirmishes. The enemy losses totalled at least five escorts and maybe as many as ten or more. With all of our big guns in Lord Ravensburgs command, there was little to do but run. The hunters had become the hunted! Blythe and his battlegroup headed back towards the vicinity of Ravensburgs main fleet, but even with Ravesnburgs capital ships, the Imperial forces were still outgunned to a serious degree. For three days the two fleets circled and dodged each other through the system, neither fleet commander prepared to commit the bulk of his ships against an enemy whose exact position was unknown. Three weeks after arriving in the system, Ravensburgs fleet and the Chaos ships clashed. Six Firestorm cruisers located the Chaos fleet near to Gethsemane II, using the cover of several dust clouds to avoid being detected themselves. Seizing the opportunity, the Lord Admiral moved his whole fleet in on the attack. Ravensburgs Cobra destroyers launched several torpedo salvoes at extreme close range - although they had little hope of inflicting damage, the torpedo attacks forced the Chaos ships to alter their heading so that they were moving towards the Imperiums capital ships. Flag-Lieutenant Martyrn, aboard the Divine Right, related the battles events: Forced into a head-on clash with our fleet, the Chaos vessels came off poorly in the initial exchange of fire. Salvoes of our torpedoes screamed into their fleet, some evaded, others hitting home with blossoms of explosions. With our forward shields and armoured prows, their return fire did little damage. Our escorts carefully kept the enemy herded in a compact mass as we passed through their lines. The ship shook as we fired broadsides simultaneously. Then Lord Ravensburg gave the order and we poured a continuous fusillade into their ships. The stars were thick with the enemy, and we could hardly miss at that range. The Imperial fleet tore through their adversaries, crippling four capital ships and destroying eleven escorts in the initial pass. Rather than turning to fight, which with hindsight would have given him the greater chance of victory, the Chaos Warmaster ordered his fleet to continue on their course in a bid to escape. The Executioners' Blow It looked as if the Chaos fleet would escape justice again, as the faster renegade vessels accelerated away from Ravensburgs pursuit. Even as the enemy drew away, more drama was to occur, as this account by Captain Drew of the Fortitude shows: They attacked without warning - one minute the screen was clear; the next a veritable armada of Eldar ships had appeared in front of the Chaos fleet. Recognising the colours of the Executioners amongst their vessels, we feared for our lives. Even as we attempted to haul onto a new heading, our dread became ecstatic happiness. The Eldar attacked the enemy, not us! I remember hearing cries of joy across the bridge as a pulse of lance shots burnt through the hull of one of their battleships, sending debris tumbling and flames crawling along its upper decks. Caught between the attacking Eldar and Ravensburgs fleet, the Chaos ships were annihilated, although a dozen more of the Emperors vessels were crippled or destroyed before victory was finally attained. Why the Eldar decided to lednd their weight to the Imperial cause was never discovered, though it is a common belief that they had finally heard of Abaddons capture of the Blackstone Fortresses and had seen an alliance as their only chance of survival. The Tide Turns As the news of Ravensburgs great victory in the Battle of Gethsemane was spread throughout the fleet, even more promising tidings were to come. In the late months of 151.M41, the warp storms that had isolated the Gothic Sector began to abate and several ships from neighbouring battlefleets arrived to reinforce the Lord Admirals bloodied fleets. The battle barges and strike cruisers of several Space Marine Chapters also arrived, bringing fresh, elite troops to the fighting. The Imperiums solid defence, although broken in places, had prevented the Chaos fleets from

achieving a swift victory, and with the help of the Eldar and ships from nearby sectors, the Emperors service could go on the offensive. The Destruction of Tarantis Just as Ravensburg had never contemplated defeat, it seems that Abaddon was equally loath to give up what he had won. With two, possibly even three, Blackstone Fortresses under his command, it was Abaddon who was the greatest threat to Imperial worlds in the Gothic Sector. Just how much of a threat was not realised until the attack on the Tarantis system. On the edges of Gothic Sector, Tarantis was a common gathering ground for ships entering or leaving the region from Tamahl Sector and so it was here that Abaddon tried to stem the flow of reinforcements coming in. His main fleet, accompanied by all three of the missing Blackstone Fortresses, swept aside the few Imperial ships close to where it broke from the warp. Closing rapidly into the system, the cruisers and battleships of the Chaos armada punched a hole through the defenders to allow the Blackstone Fortresses to break through. Countless millions of navy personnel and Imperial Guard died, planets were destroyed and an uncountable number of innocents perished as the two mighty fleets clashed, but what happened next was to totally eclipse all the horrific events of the war so far. Combining the power together in the same fashion as at Fularis, the Blackstones unleashed a massive energy wave into the Tarantis star. With their objective complete, the Chaos ships conducted a fighting withdrawal and then jumped into warp space once more. For a whole month, the Tarantis star raged and boiled. Tortured storms moved across its surface, its corona expanding to engulf the two nearest worlds. Any that could leave fled the system, but to evacuate the populations of three worlds was an impossible task. Four weeks after Abaddons attack, Tarantis star went nova, wiping out everything for many thousands of billions of miles in every direction in a storm of gas and plasma. Tarantis, a whole star system, was no more and Abaddon had the power to unleash this destruction wherever he wished. The Trap is Sprung Lord Ravensburg firmly believed that Abaddon would try to capture the other three Blackstone Fortresses, but he had no idea against which of the three the Chaos Warmaster would strike next. The hunt continued for six months, with Imperial and Eldar ships patrolling through long forgotten systems to find Abaddon and his horrific weapons. Then the forces opposing Chaos achieved a breakthrough - the Eldar had located Abaddons fleet in the Lower Lysades and were able to use their sophisticated ships to trail him through the warp. From his course it was clear that the Warmaster was preparing to launch an attack on Schindlegeist, where Blackstone V floated in the depths of space. Leaving only a few vessels to deal with the other Chaos fleets, Ravensburg and the Eldar raced to reach Schindlegeist before Abaddon. Using ancient warp gates shown to them by the Eldar, the Imperial Admirals sped across the sector and arrived five days before Abaddon was due to reach the area. With a constant stream of information concerning Abaddons actions, the Imperial ships and Eldar lay in wait. Outnumbered and caught by surprise, there was little the traitorous ship captains could do except die fighting. For three days the two mighty fleets battled, inflicting horrendous casualties on both sides. But for all their ferocity, the Chaos ships could not match the forces arranged against them. As the third day of fighting drew to a bloody conclusion, Abaddon once more broke the Blackstone Fortresses through the Imperial defence and headed towards the star. Ravensburg ordered all available ships to intercept them, though he knew there was little he could do to stop the behemoths. Only the Flame of Purity was close enough to attack, but the battlecruisers weapons had little effect against the huge stations. As the Fortresses built up their power for their cataclysmic attack, they were again linked by powerful energy beams. Seeing only one chance, Captain Abridal ordered all power to the shields and drove the Flame of Purity into the middle of the converging energy waves. The ship was destroyed almost instantly, scattered into its constituent atoms. However, the detonation had expended the Fortresses power and, as Abridal had hoped, the Blackstone Fortresses would take some time to accumulate the energy required for another attack. Luckily, time was something that

Abaddon had run out of. Abaddon's Defeat Their power systems drained, the Blackstone Fortresses could do little. Abaddon managed to escape into the warp with two of them, after a lengthy chase to the edges of the Schindlegeist system and a jump into warp space dangerously near to the gravity well. The Imperial fleet closed in on the third, unleashing all of their weapons, although still to little effect. Finally, two strike cruisers from the Angels of Redemption Space Marine Chapter, combined with assault boats from the Divine Right, boarded the isolated Blackstone in an attempt to recapture it. Ensign Goldwyn was part of the Navys boarding party and he later reported to his superiors: We were astounded to find no crew aboard the Blackstone Fortress. There was no opposition at all to our boarding and on entering I found it entirely unrecognisable from the base where I had been trained. The walls themselves pulsed with energy, the surface of which had become a deep-veined black - totally unlike the harsh white-painted corridors and rooms I had called home for six years. There was no sign at all of the modifications made by the Tech-Priests, as if our intrusion had been totally expunged. We had been aboard for perhaps an hour when suddenly a high pitched whine filled the air and the walls became ruddy in colour. A sense of panic filled out hearts and we hurried back to the sharks [assault boats]. We were just in time, as no sooner had we left than the Fortress began to break up, slowly shattering into thousands of fragments. It should have been a happy moment to see our enemy destroyed but, although I cannot say why, my heart was filled with sorrow and I could not get over the feeling that something magnificent had died. At about the same time that the re-captured Blackstone destroyed itself, the other Fortresses across the Gothic sector also self-destructed. Nobody knows if the Fortresses under Abaddons control destroyed themselves in a similar fashion: rumours have the Warmaster sighted both with and without the ancient engines of destruction. How or why the Blackstone Fortresses were obliterated remains a mystery, but Inquisitor Horst reportedly said to Lord Ravensburg: Who can tell what Abaddon could have done with all six? Some things are too dangerous to be allowed to exist and someone or something decided that the Blackstone Fortresses are amongst those things 152-160.M41 - The Closing Years With Abaddons fleet gone, the attention of the Imperial Navy was turning on the other Chaos fleets. The warp storms had decreased to almost their normal level and scores of ships poured into the Gothic Sector. Overwhelming Forces Many of the Chaos Warmasters followed Abaddon and fled back to the Eye of Terror, to nurse their hatred and bitterness until another opportunity to attack came. Four battlegroups, each consisting of several dozen capital ships and escorts, systematically engaged and destroyed many of those who remained, eradicating them each in turn. In the Port Maw sub-sector, titanic running battles between Admiral Storns second cruiser battlegroup and the warfleet of Heinrich Bale lasted for two years, as the Chaos ships slipped from system to system, turning to fight when the odds were in their favour, fleeing before the Emperors wrath at other times. That battle for Quinrox Sound claimed yet more lives as solitary Chaos vessels sped through the tangled debris, picking off the occasional Imperial escort or cruiser sent to hunt them down. The Stain is Cleansed Although the battles across the stars were drawing to a close, it took a further eight years to retake the worlds that had been captured by the forces of Chaos. Many of them were utterly devastated, their populations enslaved or sacrificed to the Dark Gods, the lands ravaged by war. Slowly but surely, the Imperial Guard scoured these planets of the taint of Chaos. The Missionaries and Confessors of the Ecclesiarchy set about restoring faith in the Emperor and the Inquisition hunted down those who had collaborated with the followers of the Dark Gods. However, the fight is never truly finished. There are worlds within the Graildark nebula that still await the Emperors fleets to free them; there are scattered Chaos ships, and even two or three fleets, that still roam the darkness

between the stars of the Hammerhead Deeps and the Cyclops Cluster, waiting for their chance to strike again. The Wolves Scatter As more warships of the followers of Chaos departed or were destroyed, Ravensburg ordered two of the large battlegroups to concentrate on the pirates who had grown powerful during the carnage. Like the Chaos fleets, they were each hunted down in turn, many of the bands breaking up and seeking sanctuary in forgotten star systems and in uncharted asteroid fields. The Orks of the Cyclops Cluster became the target of extensive pogroms, forced from worlds where they had enslaved millions, smashed from star systems where their crude ships had preyed upon Imperial shipping. Twenty years of war had left deep scars and it will still take centuries of blood, sweat and toil to repair the harm, both physically and spiritual, that had been wreaked by Abaddon and his minions. The Rewards of Victory For the Imperial Navy, and Battlefleet Gothic in particular, the cost had been high, both in human life and in numbers of ships. Great sacrifices had been made and great heroes had met the challenge. Through the determination, courage and loyalty of every man in the Navy, the war had been won. The High Lords of Terra recognised the efforts of the entire sector fleet and the name of each crewman who served in the war, from Lord Admiral Ravensburg to the lowliest rating on the smallest merchant ship, was engraved upon a specially constructed monolith, which stands ten times the height of a man in the Chambers of Heroes in the Imperial Palace itself. Inquisitor slipped away to pursue his duties elsewhere and it is rumoured that he spent the rest of his life hunting Abaddon, questing to find out what had become of the Blackstone Fortresses Abaddon may have escaped with. Of the success of his mission, no report has ever been made and he has not been seen since the end of the Gothic War. Through those dark times, the Gothic Sector had survived and life would eventually return to normal for the brave men of the Imperial Navy - the running battles with Eldar pirates, the constant search for traitorous smugglers, the crushing of heretics and rebels and the thousand other jobs for which Humanity owes the Imperial Navy its eternal thanks. Battlefleet Gothic Rulebook (Part 1) Games Workshop Ltd 1999 Compiled by Fulsrush (Richard Cowen)

THE MACHINES OF CHAOS

Slannesh War Machines
By Gavin Thorpe (WD 190) Surrounded by a magical aura of power, the Daemon knights and Scout Titans of Slannesh march into battle. Their glittering eyes sparkle with malign intelligence as they gracefully stride across the battle field. In a sudden blaze of violence they open fire, cutting down everything in their path with a torrent of shells and bolts of incandescent energy. Slaanesh Scout Titans The Subjugator and Questor Scout Titans are valuable additions to any Chaos Force. They possess incredible speed, which allows them to start attacking the enemy while the rest of the army is still charging into range. As they skirt around the foe the Chaos Titans flicker with power, tapping raw energy from warp space to maintain their essence within the physical realm. Inside the hardened carapace of each Scout Titan is the spirit of a daemon, guiding it by sheer force of will, firing its weapons as one might raise a finger. The scout Titans of Slannesh are also surrounded by the Glamour of Slannesh, like their smaller Daemon knight cousins, giving them formidable physical and psychic protection. The Subjugator

When the hordes of Slannesh attack, it is the Subjugator Titan which races ahead of the army. It is the role of these swift war machines to suppress the enemy fire and allow the Fiends, Chaos Space Marines and other followers of Chaos to attack with minimal resistance. Loping around the flanks of the battlefield, the Subjugator uses its psi-pule to pick of enemy artillery before it can fire. The Subjugator carries a strange array of weapons, the most potent of which is the psi-generators. These are studded with gems and enclose a honeycomb of membranes which resonate to the power of the warp. The Subjugator uses its own link to the warp to channel the raw psychic power through the generators, creating a psi-pulse capable of penetrating through the thickest armour. The Subjugator also has two vicious hell claws, which it use to rip armour to shreds and punch through the tough shells of enemy Titans The Subjugator carries a small battery of secondary weapons to deal with lesser but more numerous threats, consisting of a lascannon and an array of bolters. The Questor The Questor has slightly thicker armour than the Subjugator, but its powerful legs can still drive it forwards at a considerable pace. Graceful arms spread from the Questor's carapace, each tipped with a rapid-firing cannon called the tormentor. The Questor also carries a two lascannons, one mounted in the head, the other slung between the legs, along with a small battery of bolters. The Spartan The Spartan typifies the ingenuity and inventiveness of Space Marine engineers when faced with a specific tactical need. In this case, to carry a squad of fully-armoured and equipped Terminators through the so-called Ring of Death which the forces of Horus had thrown around the captured Adeptus Mechanicus city of Aries Primus. This was then the second city of Mars and the largest single source of war munitions in the Imperium. With the city in Horus hands, the besieged Earth stood no chance against the forthcoming attack from his Rebel forces. Only by recapturing Aries Primus and its weapons factories could Earths hard-pressed forces be resupplied. Horus had ordered a defensive plasma ring to be constructed around the city and called it the Ring of Death. Without vehicle transport, even the Terminators were unable to get through. The Imperium had lost most of its armoured carriers in the first battle for Aries Primus, and facilities to replace them were meagre. So, taking what spare parts and production facilities were available elsewhere the Spartan and vehicles much like it were hastily devised. Although many died attempting to cross the Ring of Death, it was eventually penetrated and destroyed, and the city was carried thanks to the devotion and sacrifice of the Terminator Suicide Squads. The Spartan design proved so successful that it was refined and retained as a standard part of Imperial equipment. The Spartan is a special conversion based on the well known Land Raider. The extra luggage space and open-top main hatch are designed to accommodate the extra bulk of Space Marines wearing Terminator Armour. The Spartan is armed with two sets of twin lascannon, exactly as the standard Land Raider, and it is provided with an additional forward facing heavy bolter and rear facing bolt gun. Both of these hull-mounted weapons are designed to be operated by a Terminator standing in the Spartan. The Battle of Molech During the Horus Heresy, in the thirtieth millennium, the galaxy was gripped by the most bitter civil war humanity has ever seen. Space Marines fought Space Marines, Titans fought Titans and Imperial Knights fought Imperial Knights. In these dark days nobody was to be trusted and treachery was as much a part of warfare as bolter shells, Volcano cannons and drop pods. One of the most horrific betrayals of the war occurred on the planet of Molech, only a few light years from the Terran star system. As the Warmaster Horus led his armies to Terra, he left a trail of destruction in his wake, hundreds of light years wide. His forces seemed unstoppable as garrison after garrison after garrison fell before his might or changed allegiance and sided with the treacherous commander. It was on the planet of Molech that one of the most determined stands was to be made. Three Titian Legions and

over a hundred Imperial Guard regiments and Knight Households stood ready to bear the brunt of the Warmaster's attack. When it came it was like a hurricane unleashed on the lush world. House Devine Horus' initial assault devastated many cities and strongholds, amongst the victims were Molech's rulers- House Devine. Dispossessed and unable to fight back, the Devine slowly succumbed to the temptations of Chaos. Over the following months the insidious whisper of Slannesh spread through the depleted ranks. Their officers became lethargic, interested only in their sports, using their mighty Knights to hunt the animals of Molech. As the seductive grip of Slannesh grew stronger, as the Prince of Pleasure bent the force of his will to corrupting the noble Devine. Soon they met in secret cabals, committing depraved rites and ceremonies within the heart of the loyalist camp. No act was too shameful or disgusting, the sensations of the moment became their only desire, When Horus launched a massive offensive, the Knights of House Devine performed an act of treachery and turned on the troops remained loyal to the Emperor. The Imperial forces found themselves caught in a trap, with advancing enemy Titans to the front and renegade Knights attacking from behind This treachery allowed the Chaos hosts to punch through the imperial defence, leaving them with no line of retreat. They were totally defeated, only one in a hundred of the army survived the campaign. The path to Terra was wide open and Horus launched his final assault on the Sol System. Daemon Knights Since that first betrayal, many Knight Households have been corrupted by Chaos down the centuries. Their crews have been long since died but their souls live on as daemons, floating within the shells of their war machines. The Knights have also mutated, sprouting claws, tails, and other horrendous weapons. When a Slaanesh army marches to war it is preceded by these Daemon Knights, spreading havoc and despair. The Daemon Knights of Slannesh are surrounded by a glittering wall of energy. This is a result of the warp-interface which keeps the spirit within them in the material universe. This shifting, swirling aura is called the Glamour of Slannesh and makes the Daemon Knights very hard to target. As the Glamour of Slannesh is an interface with the immaterial universe of warp space it also provides a certain amount of protection from attacks that use the power of the warp, such as vortex missiles and psychic powers. Hell Strider The Hell-Strider is the smallest of the Daemon Knights, but still stands many times the height of a man. Hell -Striders are extremely mobile, able to flush the enemy out of woods and ruins with their powerful but short ranged weaponry. In sufficient numbers, Hell-Striders can even hunt enemy Titans, picking of their prey's shields with their lascannon, before closing in for the kill with their melta-beams. Hell Scourge The Hell-Scrouge is one of the larger Daemon Knights. As a living machine they have crushed the opponents of Chaos for the last ten millennia and delight in the destruction of their foes, screeching deafening hunting cries across the battlefield. They are machine predators, the perfect hunters who mercilessly run down their quarry with bounding strides of their elegant, powerful legs. When the Hell-Scourges attack there is no warning. As one appears the enemy turn their weapons to bear on its blurred form. At that moment the others attack from all sides. Scything through armour and flesh with their Castigator cannon. Hell-Scourge Knights have a type of pack instinct, and are in constant communication with each other. They make exceptionally well co-ordinated attacks, out-flanking the enemy with ease. This telepathic contact spreads beyond the confines of the squadron and seems to encompass all the Hell-Scrouges in the battle, or even further. Hell Knight Hell-Knights are one of the most specialised type of Daemon Knight. Their weaponry, a rapid firing thermal lance, is fairly short-ranged but the energy to pierce almost any armour with relative ease. Hell-Knights often hunt out opposing Knights and Titans, using their speed and agility to

attack from the sides or where the armour is weakest. It was the Hell-Knights of a huge chaos army that managed to destroy the Imperator Titian Praeco Deictus on the Hive World of Kado. As the Imperial army defended the capital from the attacking Fiends, Daemonettes, Tzeentch Firelords and Khornate Lords of Battle, a hundered Hell-Knights infiltrated the massive underground transport network of the hive. As the Titans of the Legio Crucius blasted away, felling over a hundred thousand followers in little under a day, the Hell-Knights sped through the dimly lit tunnels and corridors, eradicating any opposition they encountered,. The old fusion-powered trains were destroyed on rumour of their passing spread throughout the hive. On the second day of battle the Hell-Knights burst into the main streets and arcades of the hive, indiscriminately destroying everything, killing thousands of helpless citizens. The transports of the Adeptus Aribites arrived but these too were totally crushed and the Hell-Knights fought their way back to the surface. They emerged within firing distance behind the Titan Legion, and opened up with their thermal lances. After a single salvo a whole battle group had been destroyed, the Titian's' armour turned to molten slag. Amongst the victims was the massive Praceco Deictus, an Imperator Titan which has brought victory to the Imperium on a thousand worlds.

War Machines of Khorne

Though Khorne despises magic as unfitting for a warrior he does not rely on swords and axes alone to gather souls. Technology and even magical weapons are all tools to increase the tally of the fallen. Amongst the greatest of Khorne's weapons are the part magical, part technological Daemon Engines. Daemon Engines are literally daemonic machines creatures made of iron and brass varying in size and appearance. Covered with heavy armor of red and black steel and marked with brass skull runes of Khorne, Daemon Engines are deadly, hulking monstrosities bristling with weapons. Their advance is almost unstoppable as they clank forward on rattling tracks or spiked wheels. Daemon Engines are powered by psychic energy released by bloodshed and violence, their potency increasing if the battle is going well for Chaos. Victory needs no explanation... defeat allows none... Bloodslaughter Amongst the greatest of Khornes weapons are the part magical, part technological Daemon Engines. Daemon Engines are literally daemonic machine creatures made of iron and brass. Covered with heavy armour of black steel and marked with brass skull runes of Khorne, Daemon Engines are deadly, hulking monstrosities bristling with weapons. Their advance is almost unstoppable as they clank forward on rattling tracks or spiked wheels. The Blood Slaughterer is a deadly opponent as it hurtles across the battlefield on its iron bound wheels, spraying bloody death from its heavy bolters mounted in its chest, or tearing its enemies apart with its axe and whip in hand-to-hand combat. The Blood Slaughterer will charge anything that gets in its way, attacking ferociously until it is destroyed. The Bloodslaughter is a deadly opponent as it hurtles across the battlefield on its iron bound wheels, spraying bloody death from its heavy bolters mounted in its chest, or tearing its enemies apart with its whip in hand to hand combat. The Bloodslaughter will charge anything that gets in its way, attacking ferociously until it's destroyed. Like a Juggernaut, a Bloodslaughter has an unnatural mechanical hardness like a vehicle. Bloodslaughters are armed with a huge chain axe and the potent Lash of Khorne. The lash crackles with energy, while the iron claws at the tip of each whip drip with corrosive venom. Cannons of Khorne Huge carriages of blackened steel ornamented with bronze skulls, the Cannons of Khorne mount a single heavy tube banded with brass and steel flaring towards a gigantic gaping muzzle. Cannons of Khorne rumble into battle driven by great pressure engines that push them forward on creaking wheels. It takes a considerable time for a Cannon of Khorne to build up enough energy to fire. As it does so a hellish glow grows in its maw and deep rumbles issue from within. The charge a Cannon of Khorne fires is drawn from the energies of warp space, directed as a shrieking meteor of

flame which melts flesh from bone and burns bone to ash. Blood Reaper The Blood Reaper is a lowering Daemon engine bristling with weapons. The battery of guns mounted in its central tower blaze with continuous salvoes of destruction and the heavier upper cannon blast apart armoured opponents. Anything lucky enough to survive the Blood Reaper's withering salvoes is overrun and impaled on its mighty battle scythe or crushed beneath its giant wheels. In battle Blood Reapers often rumble steadily forward over a broad front, leaving a trail of smashed and blasted remnants in their wake. Brass Scorpion Brass Scorpions are fast, fearsomely armed and possessed of a daemonic viciousness and cunning. They clatter forward on brazen wheels to hunt down their prey, racing ahead with their whirling power saws promising a quick death to anything foolish enough to come within reach. A Brass Scorpion is well equipped with short range firepower - a lethal gatling "sting" rears up from its back and more guns jut forward from its daemonic maw, but it's at its most deadly in close assaults. Up close the scything power claws slice through armour and flesh with ease and few can stand before their charge. Normally. woods and buildings are the infantryman's sanctuary from such metal predators but even these offer no succour as the Scorpions slash their way forward to winkle out hiding troops. Cauldron of Blood The veins of daemons flow not with mortal blood but the red-hot lava of daemonic blood. A huge, bubbling cauldron of daemonic blood is carried on top of the daemonic engine to supply the great cannon that juts out of its front. Once targets are within range a gout of blood is fired through the projecting nozzle, raining the foe with molten lava. Like all daemonic engines the Cauldron of Blood also carries massive combat blades on its prow to slice through the opposition. Tower of Skulls The Tower of Skulls is a wheeled daemon engine that carries tall gun towers made from piles of skulls and has a massive three-tined pincer on its front. The numerous cannon and bolters in the skull-encrusted towers can fire all around and the frontal pincer is capable of crushing armoured vehicles like eggs. Towers of Skulls normally take advantage of their armament by plunging into the midst of enemy formations so that they can first crush their foes and then blast away in all directions to cause maximum Death Dealers Death Dealers are huge mobile siege towers that carry resolute warbands of fanatical Khorne Warriors into battle. A Death Dealer can transport up to 25 of Khorne's best. At the front of the machine a gigantic mechanical Chaos Warrior wields fearsome close combat weapons and a gatling cannon. Behind the Chaos Warrior is a tower with a large cannon mounted on top. It is here that the warbands wait to disembark and from here that the mechanical Chaos Warrior is controlled. Doom Blasters Doom Blasters crawl forward on heavy, clanking treads with the gaping maws of their quadmounted doom mortars menacing the enemy. The doom mortars lob a thunderous carpet of shrapnel-packed shells amongst the foe, tossing troops and vehicles aside with their close packed barrages until there is nothing left but bleeding remnants to be crushed as they advance. Lord of Battle The Lord of Battle is not just a machine-it is a Greater Daemon of Khorne in a mechanical form. Its mighty pistons and grinding cogwheels are driven by a mind as keen and determined as any of Khorne's other daemons. The Lord of Battle is constructed of black iron and brass, and embodies all the destructive power of mechanized warfare. Khorne is a god of war in all its forms from the most primitive conflicts fought with swords and arrows to the lightning-fast wars of tanks and Titans. The Lord of Battle advances furiously, and its awesome destructive energies are easily seen in its deadly armament.

A Lord of Battle can carry a variety of weapons combinations. Normally one of these is a close combat weapon to further augment its awesome fighting ability. In addition to these weapons it also mounts a battle cannon in its head and a number of flamers in its hull to burn marauding squads of infantry Banelord Titan Titans are the supreme fighting machines of the Imperium-towering metal giants armoured in adamantium and armed with the mightiest weapons the Imperial Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus could devise. At the heart of every Titan a blazing plasma reactor harnesses the power of the sun to supply the machine's massive energy requirements. Each of these vast war machines requires a substantial crew to control and direct it. Few troops survive the assault of a Titan's devastating weapons. During their long sojourns among the daemon worlds the renegade Titans have warped and mutated, for the mutable power of Chaos is not limited to creatures of living flesh. These gigantic engines of terror are universally feared. They wander the daemon worlds from battle to battle, eternally wreaking the carnage they were built for. No one quite knows whether they still contain their original crews, their lives unnaturally pronged by the warping power of Chaos or something far worse. Chaos Titans are feared and respected by the followers of Chaos as monstrous, brooding effigies of ancient gods of war. The Imperium fears the Chaos Titans as the avenging revenants of a horrific past. Most Chaos Titans are Warlord class Battle Titans as these were the commonest types at the time of the Heresy. Nearly all of them have been modified in some way. Some have had their heads reshaped into daemonic visages, or mounted with close combat weapons or extra guns, and another common change is the addition of long sinuous tails mounting weapons or gigantic blades. Many Chaos Titans have mutated into hellish mixtures of metal and flesh. Some carry extra weapons mounted on long, sinuous tails to crush and gouge their enemies. The energy whip is a close combat weapon also used exclusively by Chaos Titans. The triple whip scythes through opposing vehicles and infantry and is capable of inflicting great damage against Titans. The whip also acts as a conductor for a massive electrical jolt intended to overload void shields and burn out circuitry. Knights During the Dark Age of Technology, scouts from Earth travelled far through the galaxy seeking planets to be used as agricultural worlds to provide food for the huge hiveworlds of Humanity. They copied the farming techniques used by the Eldar Knights already living on some of the worlds discovered. In a period referred to by the Exodites as The Coming of Men, the Eldar and Human colonists clashed in a series of bloody wars as the Eldar Knights sought to protect their homes from the interlopers. When these planets were cut off in the Age of Strife, they became feral worlds. A warrior aristocracy grew up on the Human worlds, mimicking the lifestyle of the Eldar clans. On many worlds, the Eldar clans resurged to win back the lands they had lost and settled into a pattern of battling and raiding both against the Humans and each other. The wealth of the noble Human houses and Eldar clans was based on their herds and much herd-raiding went on. The herds were greatly reduced in size, but, as the only readily available food source, were just as important. While the Eldar shared their duties equally throughout the clan, the Human nobility enforced a feudal system on those below them. A sub-class of Drovers looked after the herds, as the nobles would not soil their hands with such work. The Drovers' walkers were not, by law, armed with weapons even though they lived in constant danger from raiders and predators. This ensured that the Drovers had to rely on the Knights of the nobility for protection and nullified any chance of revolt. As well as the nobles, each house could field large numbers of men at arms, either mounted on horses or on foot. These were equipped much like Planetary Defence Force and Imperial Guard units elsewhere in the Imperium, though with not nearly as many heavy weapons. When the nobles grew too old to carry on fighting in the harry and slash of raiding or the swirling melee of battle

they would give their armour to their eldest son and take instead the armour of a Warden. Wardens formed the steadiest element within the noble houses, usually found defending the keep or protecting the Drovers. On many of the worlds, groups of artificers and technicians became the most important of the nobles' subjects. They initially simply maintained the Knights for the nobles but soon learnt to speak with one voice, threatening to withdraw their services from any Lord who failed to take heed. They styled themselves as a priesthood for the half forgotten mysteries of technology and were called Sacristans. As their power grew, they arbitrated between the different houses to ensure they did not wipe one another out in bitter feuds. The ever-present dangers of their worlds meant the Knights could not survive wars of attrition and genocide, and this necessitated the use of chivalric values to settle disputes. Eventually the Sacristans on many worlds ritualised the virtues of Honour, Duty and Valour and passed on these traditions from generation to generation. With the acceptance of these values the nobles became known as The Chivalry. In addition to the threat posed by hostile houses, the Chivalry had to fight constant battles against swift Carnosaurs which preyed upon the herds. Hunting the Carnosaurs honed their fighting skills to a deadly art, preparing them for the periods of violent warp activity which created monstrous mutated beasts. When such a beast was sighted, all the Chivalry would go on quests to seek out and destroy the creature before it tainted the land. The Rediscovery Thousands of years later, the planets were brought back into the Imperium. When Rogue Trader Jeffers rediscovered the agriworlds he referred to their inhabitants as Knights, pointing out their many Knightly virtues as he emphasised the worlds' value to the Empire both as a massive food resource and as a source of born and bred warriors. The Administratum agreed with Jeffers' findings and quickly set about rediscovering the rest of the long-lost agriworlds. To their delight, they found that two in three of the originally settled worlds were still occupied by Humans working along very similar social lines. The remaining worlds were either occupied by both Eldar and Human Knights or held exclusively by clans of Eldar Knights with strong links to the craftworlds, trading natural raw materials for technology. Often, a Knight world would be affiliated to a Titan forgeworld, producing food for it, while the Sacristans would come under the control of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Other Knight worlds were left with a large degree of autonomy, required only to produce food and obey the call to arms when given. The Imperial Cult was introduced in such a way that the Chivalry could be called on by the Empire to enter a crusade. Old rivalries forgotten, the Knights (especially younger ones) would form family units to fight with Titan Orders or the Imperial Guard. Young Knights sometimes don't have their own armour, but train on that of their father. When fighting in a crusade they are given their own armour, built on a Titan forgeworld. Once they return home they are able to keep the armour and form their own house. Thus units of Knights are often fielded by Titan Orders and the Imperial Guard. During the Horus Heresy, Knights fought on both sides - many of the agriworlds declared allegiance to Warmaster Horus and were only brought back into the Imperium after decades, even centuries, of terrible armed struggle. Knights usually fight as single units from each house which means they are usually seen in large groups. After a period of time on crusade, the Chivalry can return home, well-rewarded with loot and new armour. Normally the Wardens stay on the homeworld to protect the keep but occasionally they have taken the field when required, more than compensating for their age with stoic tenacity. In some cases, Knights bring units of men-at-arms with them. These are re-equipped by the Order or Regiment, often having their horses replaced with bikes. They act in close support of the Knight formations and as scouts for the Order. Knight Suits Knight suits are similar to Titans in that they are controlled through a direct mind link. Imperial

Titans are imprinted with a feral personality, which must be dominated by the Princeps in order to control the machine. The Titan's personality is there to handle all the mundane tasks in operating such a machine, like balancing and walking, leaving the Princeps free to concentrate on more important things. Eldar Knight suits contain a spirit stone which supplies the personality for the machine. When linked to the lone Eldar pilot, this lends Eldar Knights a fluid grace lacked by Human Knights. The spirit stones in Eldar Knights are often ancient artefacts dating back to the time of the Fall and contain the the souls of many long dead heroes. When an Eldar Knight links with his suit, he exchanges a portion of his consciousness with those in the stone. This makes Eldar Knights strange characters often speaking in archaic tongues and referring to past ages with unnerving familiarity. Human Knight suits do not have a permanently imprinted personality. Instead the Knight sits in a throne, which is imprinted with aspects of his own personality. The throne is plugged in to the armoured Knight suit and may be transferred from one Knight suit to another, though this is a rare occurrence usually only undertaken if the old suit is damaged beyond repair or the Knight wishes to become a Warden, passing on his old Knight suit to a younger relation. Imprinting your personality on a throne is a lengthy, sometimes dangerous, business. It has become a rite of passage for young nobles - this is how they become an adult. When he is old enough, a noble son who wishes to become a Squire undertakes a vigil in the family's chapel or sacristy, remaining seated in the throne throughout the long night. He is surrounded by the ancient thrones and battle banners of his forefathers which are kept in the sacristy, reminding him of the long traditions of honour and chivalry he is expected to maintain. The imprinting process tends to exaggerate dominant aspects of the young noble's personality, especially with regard to the way he is feeling during his vigil. If he is scared, the personality imprint will always be scared, making the suit difficult to control in combat. If the noble is angry with someone (say a brother who made fun of the noble before his vigil) the personality imprint will always hate that person, even if the noble has got over it. When a noble dies, his throne retains some of his character. Nobody else can use it to control the suit until they have overlaid their personality onto the throne. It is still possible, however, to communicate with the personalities in the throne. Thus they are often kept and placed in the family's sacristy, a direct link with the ancestors of a noble house. It is the height of dishonour to deny a family the opportunity to salvage the thrones of Knights who have fallen in battle and the family will go to any lengths to get them back. Note that the unarmed suits used by herdsmen are not controlled in the same way. They have a simple mind-link like that used on a Dreadnought. This makes them slow, lumbering machines when compared to the sleek thoroughbreds used by the nobles. The Sentinel walker used by the Imperial Guard is in fact a copy of the tried and tested Drover suit adapted for combat with the addition of basic armament. Though there are, many different designs of Knight suit, a common feature to all except Warden suits is the lance. The lance is a short ranged area weapon developed from devices used for herding Megasaurs. To affect the dull nervous systems of Megasaurs, lances needed to be very powerful. The war lances used by Knights in battle discharge all their tremendous power in a single cataclysmic blast, making them a weapon much feared by their opponents. The lance is always mounted in the Knights' visor, a practice that has given Knights a reputation of being able to kill with a single glance. Knights are rapidly-moving war machines, able to advance swiftly across the battlefield, deploying their heavy firepower to devastating effect. They are frequently used to forge ahead of the main formation to spearhead an attack or secure an important position. During a battle, these highlymobile hard-hitting units may be ordered to make flanking attacks, out-manoeuvring slowermoving enemy forces, and can be quickly redeployed whenever a new or unexpected threat is posed. There are three levels of status for Knights: Squire, Knight and Lord (Wardens of this status are known as Seneschals).

Formations All Knights are organized into detachments of three or more machines. The Knights in each detachment belong to a single noble house, though it's possible that a large house may be represented by more than one detachment. In major battles it is not unknown for large houses to field up to thirty kinsmen, although six to eight is more usual. Though many of the houses have blood-ties extending back hundreds of years, there is much lingering distrust between the numerous houses. Thus, if Knights are fighting on both sides in a battle, all the Knights fighting together on one side will be allied or related houses battling out a bloodfeud against age-old enemies. Human Knights are always fielded in detachments containing only one class of Knight. It is traditional for each household to use either Knight Paladins or Knight Lancers rather than a mix of the two, although large houses often fight with both classes in separate detachments. All the truly great noble houses, legendary names such as Hawkwood, Beaumaris, Arundel, Mortimer and Warwick, have the resources to call on Knights of any class: Paladins, Lancers and the stern, unflinching Wardens. Lesser families may only have a few Knight suits of a single class, worn by the finest of their warriors. Eldar clans, on the other hand, frequently use a combination of two or three classes within the same detachment and aren't subject to the same restrictions as the Human households. The most common mix in Eldar detachments is Fire Gale and Towering Destroyer classes; if the detachment also includes Bright Stallion Knights, it means the Stallions can't make use of their superior speed. Heraldry Eldar from the Lilaethan or Maiden Worlds paint their Knights in the clan's colours. Clan motifs and runes are added to both the Knight and its banners according to individual taste. The motifs of the Exodite clans are based on animals, each of which has a deep spiritual significance within the clan that uses it. The rank of the Eldar is shown by a strict colouring code: Lords have silver heads, Knights have bronze heads and Squires have gold heads. Each of the Imperial noble houses that field Knights have a livery of two colours. They use these, with adapted Imperial heraldry, to denote rank. Squires use the basic livery colour (usually the colour that is dominant on the household's banner). Knights use the basic colour halved with the secondary colour, and Lords use the two colours in a quartered pattern. The actual areas painted in different colours varies from house to house and between the different designs of Knight, but the basic pattern is always retained. Wardens are usually coloured all white, with a single panel in their household colours in a pattern appropriate to their rank. Emblems on the war machines and their banners are adapted from the main household banners. These banners usually show a heroic ancestor in battle with a mythological monster as their central image. Campaign banners and emblems are often added while the Knights are on crusade with Imperial forces Knights are large, huminoid machines that were originally created for sport, used for hunting large animals and quickly grew in popularity on worlds where such game was abundant. The tactical advantage of such machines on the field of battle was quickly realized, and the mass production of Knights for Military use, outfitted with powerful weaponry, was put into motion. These Knights were divided into "House Holds" Groups of tactical units that assisted Imperial forces during times of war. When Horus rebeled along with much of the Titan Legions and Space marine Chapters, so to did many of the Knight House Holds. One of the most famous traitor house holds is the house Divine. When Horus began his siege on Terra, Molech was one Planet that refused to give to the forces of Chaos. Many loyalists planned a last stand on the world, one of the last standing between Horus and Terra. The Loyalists put up an unmovable defence, and it seemed that the chaos forces would be destroyed that were assigned to eleminate the loyalists on Molech. However, when things looked bleak for the forces of darkness, Slaanesh was able to seduce the leader of the House Devine into damnation and they planned an attack on the Loyalists. Suddenly the Loyalists found themselves surrounded, Chaos troops to the front and the newly traitorous house Devine to the rear. In a mere few hours the Loyalists were utterly defeated, and the path to Terra was cleared for Horus' final assault. The reminants of house Devine became the Daemon Knights of Slaanesh and still plague the Imperium to this day.

The Knight Paladin is the most common Knight variant, Providing excellent fire power and the ability to fight it's way out of an assault using a massive chain fist. The Paladin stands many times the height of a man. One arm ends in a mighty battle cannon, the other in a giant chain weapon. All knights are protected by a mild force field projected in front of the machine. The Knight Errant is a varient of Knight used for close assaults, Using it's massive Melta cannon to destoy enemy vehicles once close. It is also equiped with a giant power fist, capable of crushing enemy troops and tanks. The Lancer is equiped much like the Paladin, but it's chain fist is replaced with the Hunting Lances used by traditional knights. With these powered lances, the knight can make quick and deadly attacks, with the force to impale a tank. The Knight Crusader was one of two knights designed for Heavy assault purposes. One arm sports the gigantic Quake Cannon, the other twin Lascannons. Groups of these knights are used to hunt enemy Titans, using their force fields they can be more than a match for even warlords. Note that the Crusader does not have any close combat ability. The Knight Castelion is the second of the heavy assault knights. It too is armed with the mighty Quake Cannon, but this varient replaces the Lascannons for a giant Gatling Blaster for antipersonel support. Note that the Castelion does not have any close combat ability

THE CHAMPIONS OF CHAOS

The Corrupted Primarchs
Horus It was a desperate time. Humanitys greatest champion has become its deadliest enemy. Now he leads an army against Terra itself. An army of the ultimate Human warriors - an army of Space Marines. On the feral world of Davin, Imperial Warmaster Horus was possessed by a creature from the Warp. He has turned against the Imperium of Humanity, and so have the thousands of bioengineered super warriors who followed him. Wart rages across the galaxy between the loyalists and the rebels. The Emperors palace on Terra is besieged. Rebellion and civil war flare up on millions of worlds. Brother fights brother, and Marine fights Marine. The greatest warriors Humanity has ever known, turned against each other. General Horus was the finest military commander of his age. The Emperor granted him the title of Imperial Warmaster - a high honour, even in an age when brave deeds were commonplace. But the Imperiums hero was to become its deadliest enemy. Angron Angron was one of the super human Space Marine Primarchs created by the Emperor of mankind in an effort to battle against the tide of Chaos. From Angron's genetic material the Emperor created the World Eaters Space Marines. Angron fought innumerable campaigns alongside Horus and deeply respected his ability as a great military tactician and his sense of honour and pride as a warrior. Angron, Primarch of the World Eaters, was a great warrior whose courage and sense of honour were recognised by Khorne himself. His loyalty to the Emperor, once unswerving as any of the Primarchs, was compromised. Angron became a Champion of Khorne and began to tread the path toward daemonhood and ultimate power Angron was the first Primarch to join Horus in revolt against the Emperor, for Angron knew Horus as a brother and supported the Warmaster in demanding a new order of discipline and martial virtue as the only way to save mankind from destruction. Once the rebellion turned into full scale civil war Angron and the World Eaters were drawn into bloodier and bloodier conflicts. He realised too late that instead of saving the Imperium they were destroying it, but his pride prevented him

withdrawing from the war and his good intentions became his downfall as he was drawn into the embrace of Chaos. The World Eaters had always been the most savage and warlike Space Marines and Angron led them in the worship of Khorne, god of war and bloodshed. Though Angron's loyalty to the Imperium was once exemplary, Khorne appealed his honour and martial pride more than the Emperor ever could. As a Champion of Khorne Angron led the World Eaters through some of the greatest and bloodiest battles of the Horus Heresy, including the assault on the Imperial palace. When the Heresy failed and Horus was slain, Angron and his World Eaters battled halfway across the galaxy to reach the Eye of Terror and the Daemon world Khorne had prepared for them. Khorne has wrought many changes in Angron during the Primarch's service. Angron is now a hulking, muscular giant with skin the colour of spilt blood. His face is bestial and fang filled, his eyes milky white without iris or pupil. Angron fights with a mighty Chaos blade of black glowing iron etched with runes of doom and destruction. His voice is like the roaring of a mighty storm and mortals quail at his approach. Fulgrim The Emperors Children Space Marine Legion was dispatched to pacify the rebel Warmaster Horus at the start of the Heresy, before the Emperor knew the full scale of Horus's abomination. At first Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperors Children, tried to negotiate with the Warmaster and dissuade him from his rebellion. While they parleyed Fulgrim was corrupted by the Warmaster. A tendril of power from the Chaos God Slaanesh insinuated itself into Fulgrim's mind and began to slowly bend him to the will of the Lord of Pleasure. Fulgrim resisted staunchly at first but little by little his fortitude was eroded away as his enhanced senses were stimulated beyond endurance and whispered promises awoke unspoken desires. Eventually Fulgrim's mighty will was broken and he joined Horus, surrendering to the hedonistic pleasures of Slaanesh. As Fulgrim delved deeper into depravity the Emperors Children followed him into heresy. In the war against the Imperium Fulgrim led the Emperors Children in an orgy of destruction against the undefended civilian populations of a dozen systems, slaughtering and enslaving millions in pursuit of their pleasures. When the Warmaster was slain by the Emperor Fulgrim fled to the Eye of Terror, with the remaining Emperors Children. Centuries of worship have changed Fulgrim beyond all recognition. Serpent bodied and many armed, Fulgrim has been twisted into a monstrous daemonic creature. Despite his daemonic appearance Fulgrim radiates a strange beauty and physical attraction, captivating and transfixing all who encounter him. Clouds of pastel coloured soporific musk billow around Fulgrim wherever he goes, weakening the will and awakening disturbing desires in those who breathe the heady musk. Mortarion During the Horus Heresy the Death Guard Space Marines joined the rebel Warmaster Horus and took part in many battles against the forces loyal to the Emperor. Mortarion, Primarch of the Death Guard, turned to the worship of Nurgle, Lord of Decay, after the entire Legion became trapped in the warp and was ravaged by plague. Mortarion's fevered ravings were answered by Nurgle who saved the Death Guard and made Mortarion his Champion. Subsequently Mortarion led his Space Marines on a merry dance of destruction over a score of planets. Following the death of Horus and the effective end of the Heresy, Mortarion fled with the rotting remnants of his Space Marines into the Eye of Terror. There he received Nurgle's ultimate reward and ruled his Plague Planet as the Daemon Prince Mortarion. Mortarion is a cowled, skeletal figure wrapped in tattered robes which flap in an ethereal, pestilent breeze. He bears a daemon-etched scythe to reap the souls of the living.

Champions of the Dark Gods

Kharn the Betrayer Kharn is a blood-soaked ravager, favoured by Khorne the lord of battle as one of his most insane and deadly Berzerkers, an exalted champion of butchery and mayhem.

Kharn has dedicated his millennia-long existence to unleashing bloody carnage upon anyone and anything within reach. He is drawn by the scent of war like a hungering hound and it has become impossible to tally his slaying. Even in the great crusade when he fought in the assault companies of the World Eaters Legion he was known to be a brilliant but unstable warrior. Indeed the whole World Eaters Legion was viewed as excessively bloodthirsty and dangerously over-zealous in the suppression of planets which had not even defied the Emperor's will. When the Heresy came Kharn gladly led his warriors against his Brother Marines, most notoriously in the drop site massacres on Istvaan V. In the siege of the Imperial palace he was at the forefront of every assault. When Horus was defeated Kharn already lay dead and horribly mangled upon a mound of corpses at the walls of the inner palace. His fellow World Eaters carried his corpse away with them as they fought their way back to their ships. Once on board they discovered that by some dark miracle Kharn still lived. Whether Khorne himself breathed life back into the Berzerker's body or whether the relentless clamour of war revived his indomitable spirit remains a mystery, but since the Heresy, Kharn has survived the bloodiest battles of his age and never come so close to death again. He is called the Betrayer because he will slay those that follow him almost as readily as those that oppose him. The World Eaters Legionaries learned that bitter lesson shortly after they reached the Eye of Terror as they fought against the Legion of the Emperor's Children for possession of a Daemon World called Skalathrax. On Skalathrax howling winds carved and re-carved an endless landscape of black rock and white ice. Stark black cities of twisting towers clutched at the leaden skies like winter-struck trees. The Legions fought and the World Eaters drove the Emperor's Children back from city after city with their bloody assaults. At the last and greatest city the World Eaters sensed that victory was near, they need only inflict one more defeat on the Emperor's Children to claim the planet as their own. The battle needed to be won soon, before Skalathrax' long, dark night drew in and froze victor and vanquished alike if they were not in shelter. Flames lashed the skies and blood ran in the streets as the World Eaters hurled themselves at the foe. Every arched door and slitted window seemed to spit fire at the berserk warriors but they stormed onward, chain-axes biting into armour and flesh as they overran their foes. Sonic blasters swept streets clear again and again but the chosen of Khorne fought on with the strength of madmen until only a few pockets of resistance survived. There the attack was halted as darkness fell. Kharn cursed his fellow warriors for seeking shelter while their enemies still lived. Seizing a flamer, he span around and torched the nearest buildings in a gesture of contempt. When his brother Marines tried to stop him he cut them down like corn and disappeared into the gloom, the serpent's tongue of his flamer bursts licking out again and again to consume the city. The howling winds spread the fires quickly and soon pure anarchy prevailed as the Legionaries fought each other and the fires for what shelter remained. Through the mayhem strode Kharn, slaughtering any that he found, friend or foe, the bright flames flickering from his blood-splattered armour as he wielded his shrieking chain axe in an arc of whirling death. After that night of madness the World Eaters were scattered into separate companies fighting all across the Eye of Terror. Many still bear a burning hatred of Kharn for his actions but others admire his single-minded devotion to slaughter. Kharn has led warbands of Khorne Berzerkers and other forces in uncounted battles. Victory is always his but his followers seldom survive to see it. Now only the most dedicated, or insane, warriors will follow him, but this is of no consequence to Kharn the Betrayer, who lives only to slay in Khorne's name. "Blood for the Blood God!" bellowed Kharn the Betrayer, charging forward through the hail of bolter fire, towards the Temple of Superlative Indulgence. The bolter shells ricocheting off his breastplate did not even slow him down. The Chaos Space Marine smiled to himself The ancient ceramite of his armour had protected him for over ten thousand years. He felt certain it would not let him down today All around him warriors fell, clutching their wounds, crying in pain and fear.

More souls offered up on the altar of battle to the Supreme Lord of Carnage, Kharn thought and grinned maniacally Surely the Blood God would be pleased this day. Ahead of him, Kharn saw one of his fellow Berzerkers fall, his body riddled with shells, his armour cracked and melted by plasma fire. The Berzerker howled with rage and frustration, knowing that he was not going to be in at the kill, that he would give Khorne no more offerings on this or any other day In frustration, the dying warrior set his chainsword to maximum power and took off his own head with one swift stroke. His blood rose in a red fountain to slake Khorne's thirst. As he passed, Kharn kicked the fallen warrior's head, sending it flying over the defenders' parapet. At least this way his fallen comrade would witness Kharn slaughter the Slaanesh worshippers in the few delicious moments before he died. Under the circumstances, it was the least reward Kharn could grant such a devout warrior. The Betrayer leapt over a pile of corpses, snapping off a shot with his plasma pistol. One of the Slaanesh cultists fell, clutching the ruins of his melted face. Gorechild, Kharn's Daemonic axe, howled in his hands. Kharn brandished it above his head and bellowed his challenge to the sick, yellow sky of the Daemon World. "Skulls for the skull throne!" Kharn howled. On every side, frothing Berzerkers echoed his cry. More shells whined all around him. He ignored them the way he would ignore the buzz of annoying insects. More of his fellows fell but Kharn stood untouched, secure in the blessing of the Blood God, knowing that it would not be his turn today. All was going according to plan. A tide of Khorne's warriors flowed across the bomb-cratered plains towards the towering redoubt of the Slaanesh worshippers. Support fire from the Chaos Titan artillery had reduced most of the walls around the ancient temple complex to just so much rubble. The disgusting murals painted in fluorescent colours had been reduced to atoms. The obscene minarets that crowned the towers had been blasted into well-deserved oblivion. Lewd statues lay like colossal, limbless corpses, gazing at the sky with blank marble eyes. Even as Kharn watched, missiles blazed down from the sky and smashed another section of the defensive wall to blood-covered fragments. Huge clouds of dust billowed. The ground shook. The explosions rumbled like distant thunder. Sick joy bubbled through Kharn's veins at the prospect of imminent violence. This was what he lived for, these moments of action where he could once again prove his superiority to all other warriors in the service of his exalted lord. In all his ten thousand year existence, Kharn had found no joy to touch the joy of battle, no lust greater than his lust for blood. Here on the field of mortal combat, he was more than in his element, he was at the site of his heart's desire. It was the thing that had caused him to betray his oath of allegiance to the Emperor of Mankind, his genetic destiny as a Space Marine and even his old comrades in the World Eaters Legion. He had never regretted those decisions even for an instant. The bliss of battle was reward enough to stay any doubts. He jumped the, ditch before the parapet, ignoring the poisoned spikes which lined the pit bottom and promised an ecstatic death to any that fell upon them. He scrambled up the loose scree of the rock face. and vaulted over the low wall, planting his boot firmly into the face of a defender as he did so. The man screamed and fell back, trying to stem blood from his broken nose. Kharn swung Gorechild and ended his whining forever. "Death is upon you!" Kharn roared as he dived into a mass of depraved cultists. Gorechild lashed out. Its teeth bit into hardened ceramite, spraying sparks in all directions. The blow passed through the target's armour, opening its victim from stomach to sternum. The wretch fell back, clutching at his ropy entrails. Kharn despatched him with a backhand swipe and fell upon his fellows, slaying right and left, killing with every blow. Frantically the cultists' leader bellowed orders, but it was too late. Kharn was among them, and no man had ever been able to boast of facing Kharn in close combat and living. The numbers 2243, then 2244, blinked before his eyes. The ancient gothic lettering of the

digital death-counter, superimposed on Kharn's field of vision incremented quickly. Kharn was proud of this archaic device, presented by Warmaster Horus himself in ancient times. Its like could not be made in this degenerate age. Kharn grinned proudly as his tally of offerings for this campaign continued to rise. He still had a long way to go to match his personal best but that was not going to stop him trying. Men screamed and howled as they died. Kharn roared with pleasure, killing everything within his reach, revelling in the crunch of bone and the spray of blood. The rest of the Khornate force took advantage of the destruction the Betrayer had caused. They swarmed over the walls in a howling mass and dismembered the Slaanesh worshippers. Already demoralised by the death of their leader, not even these fanatical worshippers of the Lord of Pleasure could stand their ground. Their morale broken, they panicked and fled. Such pathetic oafs were barely worth the killing, Kharn decided, lashing out reflexively and killing those Slaanesh worshippers who passed too close him as they fled. 2246, 2247, 2248 went the death counter. It was time to get on with his mission. It was time to find the thing he had come here to destroy - the ancient Daemonic artefact known as the Heart of Desire. 'Attack!" Kharn bellowed and charged through the gaping mouth of the leering stone head that was the entrance to the main temple building. Inside it was quiet, as if the roar of battle could not penetrate the walls. The air stank of strange perfumes. The walls had a porous, fleshy look. The pink-tinged light was odd; it shimmered all around, coming from no discernible source. Kharn switched to the auto-sensor systems within his helm, just in case there was some trickery here. Leather-clad priestesses, their faces domino-masked, emerged from padded doorways. They lashed at Kharn with whips that sent surges of pain and pleasure through his body Another man, one less hardened than Kharn, might have been overwhelmed by the sensation but Kharn had spent millennia in the service of his god, and what passed through him now was but a pale shadow compared to the battle lust that mastered him. He chopped through the snake-like flesh of the living lash. Poison blood spurted forth. The woman screamed as if he had cut her. Looking closer he saw that she and the whip were one. A leering Daemonic head tipped the weapon's handle and had buried its fangs into her wrist. Kharn's interest was sated. He killed the priestess with one back-handed swipe of Gorechild. A strange, strangled cry of rage and hate warned him of a new threat. He turned and saw that one of the other Berzerkers, less spiritually pure than himself, had been overcome by the whip's evil. The man had torn off his helmet and his face was distorted by a sick and dreamy smile that had no place on the features of one chosen by Khorne. Like a sleepwalker he advanced on Kharn and lashed out with his chainsword. Kharn laughed as he parried the blow and killed the man with his return stroke. A quick glance told him that all the priestesses were dead and that most of his followers had slain their drugged brethren. Good, thought Kharn, but part of him was disappointed. He had hoped that more of his fellows would be overcome by treachery. It was good to measure himself against true warriors, not these decadent worshippers of an effete god. Gorechild howled with frustrated bloodlust, writhing in his hand as if it would turn on him if he did not feed it more blood and sinew soon. Kharn knew how the axe felt. He turned, gestured for his companions to follow him and raced off down the corridor. "Follow me," he shouted. "To the slaughter!" Passing through a huge arch, the former Space Marines entered the inner sanctum of the temple and Kharn knew that they had found what they had come for. Light poured in through the stained glass ceiling. As he watched, Kharn realised that the light was not coming through the glass, but from the glass itself. The illustrations glowed with an eerie internal light and they moved. A riotous assembly of men and women, mutants and Daemons enacted every foul deed that the depraved followers of a debauched god could imagine. And, Kharn noted, they could imagine quite a lot.

Kharn raised his pistol and opened fire, but the glass merely absorbed the weapon's energy. Something like a faint moan of pleasure filled the chamber and mocking laughter drew Kharn' s attention to the throne which dominated the far end of the huge chamber. It was carved from a single gem that pulsed and changed colour, going from amber to lavender to pink to lime and then back through a flickering, random assortment of iridescent colours that made no sense and hurt the eye. Kharn knew without having to be told that this throne was the Heart of Desire. Senses honed by thousands of years of exposure to the stuff of Chaos told him that the thing fairly radiated power. Inside was the trapped essence of a Daemon Prince, held forever at the whim of Slaanesh as punishment for some ancient treachery. The man sitting so regally on the throne was merely a puppet and barely worth Kharn's notice, save as something to be squashed like a bug. The man looked down on Kharn as if he had the temerity to feel the same way about Khorne's most devoted follower. His left hand stroked the hair of the leashed and naked woman who crouched like a pet at his feet. His right hand held an obscenely shaped runesword, which glowed with a blasphemous light. Kharn strode forward to confront his new foe. The clatter of ceramite-encased feet on marble told him that his fellow Berzerkers followed. In a matter of a hundred strides, Kharn found himself at the foot of the dais, and some odd, mystical force compelled him to stop and stare. Kharn did not doubt that he was face-to-face with the cult leader. The man had the foul, debauched look of an ancient and immortal devotee of Slaanesh. His face was pale and gaunt; make-up concealed the dark shadows under his eyes. An obscene helmet covered the top of his head. As he stood, his pink and lime cloak billowed out behind him. Tight bands of studded leather armour girdled his naked chest, revealing lurid and disturbing tattoos. "Welcome to the Heart of Desire," the Slaanesh worshipper said in a soft, insinuating voice which somehow carried clearly across the chamber and compelled immediate, respectful attention. Kharn was instantly on his guard, sensing the magic within that voice, the persuasive power which could twist mortals to its owner's will. He struggled to keep the fury that burned eternally in his breast from subsiding under the influence of those slyly enthralling tones. "What do you wish?" "Your death!" the Betrayer roared, yet he felt his bloodlust being subdued by that oddly comforting voice. The cult leader sighed. "You worshippers of Khorne are so drearily predictable. Always the same tedious, unimaginative retort. I suppose it comes from following that mono-maniacal deity of yours. Still, you are hardly to be blamed for your god's dullness, I suppose." "When Khorne has devoured your soul, you will pay for such blasphemy!" Kharn shouted. His followers shouted their approval but with less enthusiasm than Kharn would have expected. For some reason, the man on the throne did not appear to be worried by the presence of so many armed men in his sanctum. "Somehow I doubt it, old chap. You see, my soul has long been pledged to thrice-blessed Slaanesh, so unless Khorne wants to stick his talon down Slaanesh's throat or some other orifice, he'll have a hard time getting at it." "Enough of this prattle!" Kharn roared. "Death is upon you!" "Oh! Be sensible," the cultist said, raising his hand. Kharn felt a tide of pleasure flow over him, like that he had felt from the whip earlier but a thousand times stronger. All around him he heard his men moan and gasp. "Think! You can spend an eternity of pleasure being caressed by the power of Lord Slaanesh, while your soul slowly rots and sinks into his comforting embrace. Anything you want, anything you have ever desired, can be yours. All you have to do is swear allegiance to Slaanesh. Believe me, it's no trouble." As the cult leader spoke, images flickered through Kharn's mind. He saw visions of his youth and all the joys he had known before the rebellion of Horns and the Battle for Terra. Somehow it all looked so clear and fresh and appealing, and it almost brought moisture to his

tear ducts. He saw endless banquets of food and wine. For a moment, his palate was stimulated by all manner of strange and wonderful tastes, and his brain tingled with a myriad pleasures and stimulation's. Visions of diaphanously clad maidens danced before his eyes, beckoning enticingly. For a moment, despite of himself, Kharn felt an almost unthinkable temptation to betray his ancient oath to the Blood God. This was powerful sorcery indeed! He shook his head and bit his lip until the blood flowed. "No true warrior of Khorne would fall for this pitiful trick!" he bellowed. 'All hail Slaanesh!" one of his followers cried. "Praise to the great Lord of Pleasure!" shouted another. "Let us grovel and adore him," a third said, as the whole force cast themselves down onto their knees. Kharn turned to look at his men, disbelief and outrage filling his mind. It seemed that they did not possess his iron-willed belief in Khorne's power, that they were prepared to betray him for a few tawdry promises of pleasure. In every face, in every posture, he saw slack-jawed worship of the posturing peacock on the throne. He knew that there was only one thing to be done under the circumstances The Cultist leader obviously felt the same. "Kill him!" he cried. "Offer up his soul to Slaanesh and unspeakable ecstasy shall be your reward!" The first of Kharn's comrades raised his bolt pistol and squeezed the trigger. Kharn threw himself to one side and the shell whipped past his head. The Betrayer rewarded the traitor with a taste of Gorechild. The chain-axe screeched as it bit through armour in a mighty sweep that clove him clean in two. The warrior gave a muted whine as his Slaanesh corrupted soul went straight to Hell. Suddenly the rest of the Berzerkers were upon him. Kharn found himself fighting for his immortal life. These were no mere Slaanesh cultists. Newly tainted though they might be, they had once been worthy followers of Khorne, fierce, deadly and full of bloodlust. Mighty maces bludgeoned Kharn. Huge chainswords threatened to tear his rune-encrusted armour. Bolter shells tore chunks from his chest-plate. Kharn fought on, undismayed, filled with the joy of battle, taking fierce pleasure every time Gorechild took another life. At last, these were worthy foes! The body count swiftly ticked on to 2460 and continued to rise. Instinctively Kharn side-stepped a blow that tore off one of the metal skulls which dangled from his belt. The Betrayer swore he would replace it with the attacker's own skull. His return stroke made good his vow. He whirled Gorechild in a great figure-of-eight and cleared a space all around him, sending two more traitors to make their excuses to the Blood God. Insane bloodlust surged through him, overcoming even the soporific influence of the Heart of Desire and for a moment Kharn fought with his full unfettered power. He became transformed into an unstoppable engine of destruction and nothing could stand against him. Kharn's heart pounded. The blood sang through his veins and the desire to kill made him howl uncontrollably Bones crunched beneath his axe. His pistol blew away the life of its targets. He stamped on the heads of the fallen, crushing them to jelly Kharn ignored pain, ignored any idea of self-preservation, and fought for the pure love of fighting. He killed and he killed. All too soon it was over, and Kharn stood alone in a circle of corpses. His breathing rasped from his chest. Blood seeped through a dozen small punctures in his armour. He felt like a rib might have been broken by that last blow of the mace but he was triumphant. His counter read 2485. He sensed the presence of one more victim and turned to confront the figure on the dais. The cultists' leader stood looking down at him with a faint expression of mingled disbelief and distaste on his face. The naked girl had fled. The throne pulsed enticingly. "It's true what they say," the man said with a delicious sigh. "If you want anything done properly, you have to do it yourself."

The insinuating voice drove Kharn's fury from him, and left him feeling tired and spent. The cultist strode down from the dais. Kharn felt almost too weary to parry his blow. He knew he must throw off this enchantment quickly The runesword bit into his armour and a wave of mingled pain and pleasure passed through Kharn like poison. Summoning his last reserves of rage, he threw himself into the attack. He would show this effete fop who was the true warrior here. Kharn hacked. Gorechild bit into the tattoos of the man's wrist. Gobbets of flesh and droplets of blood whirled away from the axe's teeth. The rank smell of hot bone filled the air as the hand separated from the arm - and began to crawl away with a life of its own. Kharn stamped on it and a rictus of pain appeared on its owner's face, as if the hand was still attached. Kharn swung. The cultist's head separated from its shoulders. The body swung its blade, a puppet still controlled by the strings of its master's will. It bit into Kharn and the wave of sensation almost drove him to his knees. "Nice trick!" roared Kharn, feeling the hand squirm beneath his boot. "But I've seen it before." He brought his chain-axe down on the head and cleaved it in two. The body fell to the ground, a puppet with its strings cut. 2486, Kharn thought with some satisfaction. The Betrayer advanced upon the throne. It pulsed enticingly before him. Within its multiple facets he thought he saw the face of a beautiful woman, the most beautiful he had ever seen -and the most evil. Her hair was long and golden, and her eyes were blue. Her lips were full and red, and the small, white fangs that protruded from her mouth in no way marred her perfection. She looked at Kharn beseechingly, and he knew at once he was face to face with the Daemon trapped within the Heart of Desire. "Welcome, Kharn", a seductive voice said within his head. I knew you would triumph. I knew you would be the conqueror I knew you would be my new master. The voice was thrilling. By comparison, the cult leader's voice had been but a pale echo. But the voice was also deceptive. Proud as he was, mighty as he knew himself to be, Kharn knew that no man could truly be the master of a Daemon, not even a fallen Space Marine like himself. He knew that his soul was once more in peril, that he should do something. But yet again he found himself enthralled by the persuasiveness of a Slaanesh worshipper's voice. Be seated! Become the new ruler of this world, then go forth and blast those meddlesome interlopers from the face of your planet. Kharn fought to hold himself steady while the throne pulsed hypnotically before him, and the smell of heavy musk filled his nostrils. He knew that once he sat he would be trapped, just as the Daemon was trapped. He would become a slave to the thing imprisoned within the throne. His will would be drained and he would become a decadent and effete shadow of the Kharn he had once been. Yet his limbs began to move almost of their own accord, his feet slowly but surely carrying him towards the throne. Once more, visions of an eternity of corrupt pleasure danced in Kharn's mind. Once more he saw himself indulging in every excess. The Daemon promised him every ecstasy imaginable and it was well within its power to grant such pleasures. He knew it would be a simple thing for him to triumph on its behalf. All he had to do was step outside and announce that he had destroyed the Heart of Desire. He was Kharn. He would be believed, and after that it would be a simple matter to lure the Khorne worshippers to ecstatic servitude or joyful destruction. And would they not deserve it? Already he was known as the Betrayer, when all he had done was be more loyal to his god than the spineless weaklings he had slaughtered. And with that the Daemon's voice fell silent and the visions stopped, as if the thing in the throne realised its mistake, but too late. For Kharn was loyal to Khorne and there was only room for that one thing within his savage heart. He had betrayed and killed his comrades in the World Eaters because they had not remained true to Khorne's ideals and would have fled from the field of battle without either

conquering or being destroyed. The reminder gave him the strength. He turned and looked back at the room. The reek of blood and dismembered bodies filled his nostrils like perfume. He remembered the joy of the combat. The thrill of overcoming his former comrades. He looked out on a room filled with corpses and a floor carpeted with blood. He was the only living thing here and he had made it so. He realised that, compared to this pleasure, this sense of conquest and victory, what the Daemon offered was only a pale shadow Kharn turned and brought Gorechild smashing down upon the foul throne. His axe howled thirstily as it drank deep of the ancient and corrupt soul imprisoned within. Once more he felt the thrill of victory, and knew no regrets for rejecting the Daemon's offer. 2487. Life just doesn't get any better than this, Kharn thought. By Bill King, originally published in WD# 231 & Inferno #1