Editing Nobledark Imperium Imperial Forces (section)

==== The Black Legion ====

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The Void Wolves are Astartes primarily used as boarding/anti-boarding specialists throughout the Great Crusade and 1st Black Crusade. The majority of the pre-split Void Wolves Astartes ended up in this chapter. They call the worlds of the Cadian Gate their home, and recruit from these and nearby systems. The Void Wolves still operate much as the Legion of old, in that they are massively represented in the boarding parties of the Navy assets in the Cadian sector, but with the emphasis put more on garrison duty.

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'''Lord Commander Corpulax was previous Lord Commander of Black Legion'''

Corpulax was born on Cadia in the year 446M41, and like all Cadians was inducted into the military and raised to be a good little soldier. It wasn't long into his adolescence that his physical prowess was recognized. As such, he was genetically screened and earmarked for the Black Legion. He trained well and hard as a Neophyte and learned deeply of the chapter's venerable lore. In his 15th year, he started to undergo the surgical alterations and augmentations that would turn him from human to Astartes.

His career as a Space Marine was noteworthy in his reliability. He was a very by-the-book soldier, who would have been overlooked for any measure of excellence were it not for his ability to exemplify everything the chapter's battle doctrines exalted. He was, in every way, the very model of a Cadian Space Marine. By age 176 he was a sergeant, by 239 he was a Marshal, and by 301 he was Lord Commander. And it was a role he excelled at — for the brief time that he held that rank, at least. In the year 775M41, a mere 28 years into his command, the Apostles of Contagion launched a sustained attack on the agri-world of Phagir. Phagir was one of the worlds that supplied the Cadian Gate with food. Presumably their goal — or at least the goal of their masters — was to inconvenience the Gate Worlds, as were they to succeed the Gate Worlds would have to import all foodstuffs.

The Apostles of Contagion launched a sustained campaign in their defensive style of land holding and attrition, supplemented by extensive biological warfare. In the end it was deemed an untenable theater by the Adeptus Biologis order stationed on the planet; they couldn't make cures as fast as the Apostles could make ails. The Cadian forces were instrumental in the evacuation of Phagir as the Zombie Virus finally took hold and the dead shambled across the blighted fields to add the living to their ranks.

The Black Legion held the line at the capital's spaceport until the last moment - to get just one more shuttle off of the planet. In the final stages of the withdrawal it became clear that Lord Commander Corpulax was infected with the Zombie Virus, for which there was no cure save a clean death. Wracked in pain and wroth with righteous fury, Corpulax spent his last moments sprinting towards a techno-abomination of rust and rotted flesh merged together into what might once have been a Baneblade. Its burning wreckage was his funeral pyre as the IEDs he had strapped to himself detonated.

By his sacrifice one more shuttle, containing nearly 2,000 civilians and the last of his brothers on the surface, made it safely off the launch pad. The planet was subsequently bathed in nuclear fire; it was lost but it would not be damned.

'''Lord Commander Zagthean the Broken'''

Zagthean was the son of a long-term "soup stirrer" of the algae vats and a sister of the Convent of Alabaster Maidens. Civilian jobs on Cadia are typically — though not always — given to individuals disqualified from front line service for reasons of either health or competence. As good 'ol Zaganath had been doing that job from age 12 to age 62, it can be safely assumed that he was given the job for being pretty useless at proper soldiering. This was not to say that he wasn't a dutiful man; he died in a Chaos raid with a Cadian weapon in his hands and Cadian honor in his heart, and he didn't go down quietly nor alone. Matylda was sister of the Alabaster Maidens, a widespread order with convents on several dozen worlds in the Cadian Sector that specialized in offering healthcare to the underclasses. On Cadia, they offered healthcare to the more broken veterans.

Despite his humble beginnings, Zagthean has proven a savage warrior — more of Angron's ilk than Horus'. He has charged into battles no man or Astartes should ever have hoped to walk out of, and has not only done so but done so victorious. Even in his earliest days he was dauntless, and he set into every task and training exercise put before him with an almost alarming ferocity. After his genetic screening there was no question of him being looked over for Space Marine augmentation, and the fire in his heart was not diminished even slightly by the alterations; if anything with fewer physical constraints he approached the status of truly unstoppable.

His will is adamantium and among his chapter his word is law. To the Lord Castellan's annoyance he insists on leading from the front; in the thick of the carnage, the blood and the thunder flowing past him. Roaring with laughter and wroth joy, all mortals who have stood against him have known one simple truth: they have come here to die and their gods — from the greatest to the least — have all abandoned them.

He is relatively young for a man of his rank, but he has lived hard and built up an impressive record. But the price of living so hard is that he has seen death many times, and they have danced ever closer. He has been broken down and rebuilt, torn apart and stitched back whole, burned, healed, cut, stitched, glued, grafted, and lashed back together. What's left is almost poured over, rather than connected to, an ever increasing number of cybernetics. He may have fallen many times, but he is still alive. He does not march, he charges; he wills Death to find him, to hold him one last time so that he may beseech her "let me take these bastards out with me". And always Death has returned him.

As the 13th Black Crusade descends upon Cadia, it may be that his wish could be granted. He may die, but he will take whole armies down with him.

'''Ygethmor the Trickster, Head of the Black Legion Battle Psykers'''

Of Old Earth stock and a resilient psychic of pristine physique, Ygethmor was initially destined for the Grey Knights. Though the tests of genetic compatibility showed positive, the artificial organs of the MK III S gene-seed would not take root in his flesh. Unwilling to just toss such a promising neophyte aside for such paltry reasons as a biological fluke, the Grey Knights ordered him to be tested with the MK III MP variant of the gene-seed. The MP variant did take and Ygethmor was posted to the Cadian Gate — typically they would have sent him to the Exorcists but he lacked their "straightforward" attitude to problem-solving. Steeped in ancient daemon lore learned in the halls of Titan and with a Nemesis Blade as a parting gift, Ygethmor has proven to be a boon to the Black Legion like no other.

He is fond of ambushes, illusions, misdirection and what he affectionately likes to refer to as "pranks". He is formidable in a straight-up and honest fight — if he has no option to make a dishonest one. He has no notions of fair play and considers the idea of "fair play" synonymous with "not trying". It is this underhanded attitude towards warfare that has won him the approval of the Lord Castellan (and few others). That and a well-refined and caustic sense of humour.

Despite his detractors, of which he has cultivated a great many, Ygethmor's effectiveness can not be denied. He is not the most powerful psychic among the Astartes — not by a great margin — but like his martial strength he makes the most of what he has. As he would say, "a stiletto atwixt the sternum is as good as a broadsword to the bonce".

'''Devram Korda, Marshal of the 1st Cohort'''

At approximately 230 years of age Marshal Devram Korda is on the younger end of the Black Legion's Marshals, but he is far from unaccomplished. His rank was attained in the Liberation of Sarora, an intense war on the hiveworld Sarora to depose the warband known as the Children of Torment; a nasty group of Crone Worlders with faux marines stitched together from the bodies of their victims and animated with lesser daemons. As the most senior surviving officer left after a particularly nasty assault, Davram was given temporary command over his brothers. This was made permanent at the conclusion of the campaign, when contact was re-established with Lord Castellan Jakren Stein and the rest of the Cadian 509th.

The things he saw on Sarora, the things he had to do for the sake of pity, still haunt him. He is a grim figure, with no sense of humour or good cheer. Just a seething, well-controlled, and bottomless grudge.

'''Marshal Araghast the Pillar, Marshal of the 2nd Cohort'''

Abnormally large for a Space Marine and phenomenally strong besides, Marshal Araghast lugs around a lascannon with the same ease as an experienced guardsman lugs around a Lasgun. His aim is exemplary, and for a creature so big he can move surprisingly fast. In his oversized suit of armour Araghast can withstand a punishing amount of fire and remains standing, carefully and calmly placing laser beams in the most inconvenient places. He rose to prominence in the Aurelia debacle that almost saw a world lost to the warp. He was the pillar of certainty around which the rescue forces rallied.

He has a calm and measured manner and an unflappable temperament, and remains — or can at least give the impression of remaining — relaxed in even the most bizarre and awful circumstances.

'''Xorphas Firestarter, Marshal of the 3rd Cohort'''

Xorphas is very good at pyrotechnics and incendiaries of all kinds, and possesses a fascination with fire that borders on the unhealthy. This has, however, made him and his Cohort extremely good at dealing with orks and Nurglites in particular, and anything else that resents being set on fire in general. He is also a low level psychic, though despite the rumours he is not a pyrokine. His "gifts", if one can call them that, manifested only after he attained the position of Marshal, and by then he was too far along the chain of command for it to be worth the effort and disruption of reassigning him to the Battle Psykers. He was given extensive instruction by the head Librarian so that he would be considered safe, but little in how to hone what he actually does have — which is not very much if truth be told. He has very good gut instincts that can be mistaken for inhuman reflexes (even by Astartes standards), an uncanny ability to determine if someone is lying, and some modest telekinetic ability.

He is a reserved and calm individual, meticulous and methodical in his approach to all things — be it war or mundane chores. Until you give him a box of matches and you can see the flickering flames reflected in his eyes.

'''Drecarth the Sightless, Marshal of the 4th Cohort'''

A veteran of the 12the Black Crusade who spent half the invasion stranded in the lower tunnels, hunted by Crone Worlders with knives for fingers. Those knives had cost him his eyes, but he cost them much more. Those tunnels were pitch black, but he was blind anyway. As such, although the Crones could see to some degree in total darkness, Drecarth could hear perfectly well and thus eschewed the corrupted Eldars' handicapped sight for a clear, inhuman hearing. Drecarth had yet another advantage, as those tunnels had been his playground as a child; they weren't just tunnels, they were home. The hunt quickly turned inside out, and the Chaos Eldar came to the realization that he wasn't trapped with them, they were trapped with him. When he returned to the light he was reborn, and his star was ascendant.

With two black orbs of technology replacing his ruined eyes and an unhealthily pale visage, Marshal Drecarth looks like a spectre from the old stories; some unhappy undead returned to get even. He has moulded his company into one of quiet killers, stalkers, and hunters, as he had been in the time of his epiphany. It is suspected that he is part of the secretive Cadian Death Faith, as it was prevalent in his patch of tunnels when he was young, but nothing can be proven. All that is known is that he is sober, diligent, humble, and quiet. All traits he tries to instil in his brothers.

'''Amalaxis Deamonslayer, Marshal of the 5th Cohort'''

Amalaxis is as close to a Chaplain as you can get without actually being one. He is a strong, almost fanatical, believer in the old Cadian tree gods. He offers prayers and devotion to them on the eve of battle, before setting forth on campaign, when another invasion is expected, and when it is peaceful because on Cadia — you have to be thankful for respite. Most of his Cohort are also adherents of his faith — the reason he was chosen as Marshal of the 5th Cohort — and to them he is a figure of great reverence. Some say he was a tree spirit in a stillborn child, like in the old stories of before war.

His method of warfare is very much in favour of the aggressive advance. Ideally after the first attack there should be no possibility of a retaliation. There must be something to his faith, as the hymns he roars as he charges into battle have daemons clutching their bleeding ears.

'''Valicar "the Graven" Hyne, Marshal of the 6th Cohort'''

Unlike Marshal Drecarth, Marshal Valicar Hyne makes no secret of his adherence to the Death Faith. Why should he? Why should he have to skulk in the dark and hide? This candidness has not won him many friends in the faith, all of whom agree that discretion has served them well since the Age of Strife. The rest of the Chapter just think he's a bit eccentric and the baseline Cadians just assume all augmented are a bit loopy — assuming they haven't actually met a Space Marine before.

Despite the implications of his religion, he is a bombastic man who loves the simple pleasures in life; pretty women, good food, and fine ale. Also jetpacks and air assaults. If the battle can be met hurling out of a speeding aircraft, it is a good day for Marshal Valicar. It is suspected that most of the 6th Cohort follow him out of morbid fascination.

'''Verzekh the Siege Engine, Marshal of the 7th Cohort'''

Verzekh has the distinction of being the only member of the Marshals to retain rank whilst interred in a Dreadnaught. Most Dreadnaughts become sleepy as a result of the painkillers and mechanisms that keep them in their half-life — not a good trait in a leader. Not so with old Verzekh. Whether by some incorrect implementation of his sarcophagus or a deviation in his brain, Verzekh has not slept in over 1,800 years and so far seems to be suffering no ill effects. Attempts to duplicate this miracle in others have had no notable success.

He is armed with two power claws with under-slung Meltas, with which he has obliterated the defenses of hundreds of bunkers and fortifications and uncountable tanks. His personality since his internment has actually improved, if the historical records are anything to go off of, now having a very pleasant and cheerful disposition. Verzekh puts this down to the painkillers. His favored method of warfare is the slow and unstoppable advance.

'''Kor Megron "Corpsemaker", Marshal of the 8th Cohort'''

Many times repaired and cybernetically patched up — though not the extent of the Lord Commander — Marshal of the 8th Cohort Kor Megron is a fan of going fast and going hard. Bikes, land speeders, jet packs, and anything else that can deliver high velocity death are his bread and butter. Standing still, he claims, makes you a target in a way that no additional fire power will compensate for. The rest of his chapter call him slightly manic. He calls them worse. In war — as in life — there is the target. You get target fast, find another target, get other target, repeat until target exhaustion or death. There is no stop, there is no slowing, until the job is done. To stop invites death.

The Cohort that he has assembled are all, like himself, lay-technicians. They need to be able to perform basic rituals of repair to their vehicles at a moment's notice. To lose the momentum is to invite failure. Possibly exacerbating these traits is his knowledge that he is indeed dying; some poison of Dark Eldar design — half-real and half-not — flickers through his veins. He has maybe a few years at most left. If the intent of this poison was supposed to debilitate him with despair or fear, it has failed. If anything, it's made him far more dangerous in the time he has left.

'''Troskzer The Elder, Marshal of the 9th Cohort.'''

Older than some of the younger dreadnaughts, Marshal Troskzer is old even by the standards of near-immortals. Given the time distorting effects of warp travel and the amount of time he has travelled through said warp, Troskzer isn't sure exactly how old he is. He was born in the year 998M40, but he could be as "young" as 850. That said, Space Marine biology and rejuvenant treatments can only take you so far, and he is approaching exactly as far as they can take him. What Troskzer has lost in strength and speed he has made up for in experience and animal cunning. He is without peer when it comes to the use of landscape and natural resources as a means of gaining an advantage. He can plan ambushes almost as well as the Lord Castellan, and his ability to smell weakness is bordering on the unnatural. If you have a place where you are vulnerable he will find it and he will hurt you. He is patient and will fuck up your day at the most inopportune time. This, combined with an inhuman ability to comprehend not just his battlefield but an entire planetary campaign, makes him far more dangerous off the field of battle than on it. But he is a Space Marine, he will not be shamed by staying where it is safe.

Despite his seniority — and to his relief — he was never considered for the job of Lord Commander. A Lord Commander has to have a sense of diplomacy and people skills. Troskzer has neither. He's a cantankerous, introverted, belligerent arsehole overly fond of sarcasm and seems to be staying alive just because it pisses people off.

'''Starkzahn, Marshal of the 10th Cohort.'''

Saviour of Darristen and ███████ █████████ ██████ ███ ██████ ██ ████████ ████ ███ █████████ ██████ ████████████ █████ ████. Known to have spent near thirty years in the Deathwatch and a further twenty five in the personal employ of a particular Inquisitor, neither of which he will talk about. It is suspected that he has travelled and fought as far as the Eastern Fringe — or at the very least near it — as he is well versed in the teaching of Aun'Va, though it is unlikely that he will be able to convince his countrymen of the virtues of the Greater Good.

His method of waging war is a combination of movement and fire, be it in the form of artillery or tactical squads that looks oddly familiar to anyone who has seen warfare in the Damocles Gulf.

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