Chimera Legion

Chimera Legion.
Battle Cry	'The flesh is weak, before the forge!' or 'For Thodos!'
Strength	Unknown.
Specialty	Obliterators and Body Modification.
Allegiance	Undivided
Colours	Black, with Green helmet, pauldrons and lower legs.

The Chimera Legion are a /tg made Chaos Warband, a mercenary splinter group of the Iron Warriors that worships the Obliterator Virus. They excel at genetech and body modification, making living weapons out of themselves and the swarms of cultists that follow them fanatically. If you've got a siege you just can't crack, a target that just won't go down, they're the ones to call.

Overview

Not pictured: flensing claws, stinger tail, extra head

The Chimera Legion takes the view that when the Emperor created the glorious warrior that is the Space Marine, he left some room for improvement. This they do with enthusiasm on their own bodies. Want to upgrade those dinky old fingers with snazzy tearing talons? How about a barbed tentacle that spits acid? A mouth on your shoulder that sings worship to the Chaos Gods? Why not?

They bring the same enthusiasm to their army of cultists. A traitorous guardsman may find his lasgun welded into his chest, leaving his hands free to become a pair of giant crab claws. The cultists' own enthusiasm on the subject is as varied as it is irrelevant. In extreme cases, Chimeras may turn their cultists into full-on Chaos Spawn to improve their combat abilities. They've even been known to send modified cultists in to infiltrate the enemy, appearing normal up until the point where they explode into flaying tentacles.

They also see Obliterators as the pinnacle of human potential. Veterans that have proved themselves worthy have the virus bestowed upon them, inevitably going insane as the infection pulls their minds apart. Inspired by their leader, each marine hopes that they will remain strong enough to keep their sanity. So far, no one has.

Organisation

The Warband itself is led by Thodos, an obliterator turned daemon prince, however when Thodos is busy in the warp, dicking about or regenerating, the warband is instead lead by his advisors, the Quintumvirate. These are Arlek the Ironchosen, High Commander Silas Warpshriek, Archanon of the Steel Soul, Orphaeus Paraphron the High Fleshshaper, and High Prophessor Tianakles.

Leaders

• Thodos: Obliterator turned Daemon Prince
• Arlek the Ironchosen: A mentor then close friend and confidant to Theodorus during the Heresy Arlek accidentally exposed his friend to the Obliterator Virus and sent him down the path to Princedom. Within the legion he manages the forges and factories of the Legion. His role as liason to the Dark Mechanicus allows him to manage the finances of the legion with ease, his mechanical mind suited to such work.
• High Commander Silas Warpshriek: A raptor of exceptional clarity and shrewd cunning, Silas is Thodos' military right hand man, overseeing deployment, recruitment, and campaign operations of the Chimeras. Like a son to Thodos, Silas is fatalistically loyal to Thodos, and has learned much of commanding troops under his lord.
• Archanon: Undisputed master of the attendant sorcerer covens, the wizard offers cryptic council and mysticism to an otherwise business-like committee. The sorcerer is oft untrusted and begrudgingly listened to.
• Orphaeus Paraphron: High Fleshshaper: As the Ironchosen commands the crucibles and forges of the legion so does Orphaeus oversee the precious Chimera laboratories. From the development of new viruses to the perfection and application of mutagens, Orphaeus lords over it all. Sometimes he will trade with other lords of the craft, like Eldar Haemonculi or the Venerable Fabius Bile to further his own research.
• High Prophessor Tianakles: Held in the esteem of Thodos for his skills of Oration and control Tiankles is the father of the Chimeric Cult, the thousands of cultists ready to die for the legion falling under his direct supervision from his great pulpit.

Notable Members

"He's like a gross treasure chest that hates you."

• Echidnus the Challenged: A powerful Obliterator with a fearsome reputation and a hoarding compulsion. Once a deadly champion of Chaos, what little scraps of sanity he has left leads him to stalk the battlefield in search of worthy opponents to duel. Once he finishes killing them, he claims their weapon and stabs it into his back. After a few thousand years of being one of the hardest motherfuckers around, there's a veritable trove of ancient relic weapons inside him, leading many to seek him out and invariably add to his collection. Both Trazyn and the Blood Ravens will pay top dollar for his corpse.

Writefaggotry

Allow me to go on a tangent, if I may.

Consider the Chimera. A noble, savage, proud beast, but it is greater than the sum of its parts.

Take the lion, for example. Strong, unyielding, proud. The lion makes the Chimera strong, but strength is overcome by guile and wit, and worn down in the face of adversity.

But what of the Ram? Yes, the humble ram. He who is of a mindless herd, yet bold, tough, adaptable. The ram may not have the strength of the Lion, nor the venomous faculties of the clever serpent, but he is tenacious and adaptable, able to survive where the others cannot.

And what of the viper? That most insidious limb of the honourable Chimera. It whispers, flitting in and out of the brush. The Malevolent snake is the alien mind of the Chimera, offering tainted knowledge and deadly venom to an otherwise dumb beast.

Thus is the marine of the Chimeric Legion , as is their machine God, Thodos the Ironbringer. Proud metal to strengthen changing flesh fueled by the warp.

Steel and Iron.

Flesh and Bone.

Warp and Daemon.

This is the path that leads to perfection. This is the evolution of the terrible Chimera.

Should this not be the path of Thodos and his Brothers and Sons, oh brothers mine?

Untitled

The Pride of Thodos swelled, pullasting, twisting flesh girding against plates of twisting metal, the kinfe like vessel shuddering in the void like a woman in the throes of a violent birth. The rest of the Chimeric fleet silently drifting in the void, like attendant midwives, bristling with anticipation.

Within the groaning interior of the mighty Pride marines, crew, and cultists poured into the twisting halls and layered decks, sprinting to the command deck of the ship. The warband flooded through tunnels, bulkheads, walkways, and through the great sweeping doorway that lead to the heart of the ship. The marines stood in tight formations around a great dias of smooth black metal. The champions of the warband stood upon the periphery of this obsidian column in grim silence. The crew and attendant cultists huddled on the deck and in balconies and on gangways in a chittering, awed mass.

The champions then nodded to one another and then in unison spilled their own blood. Some poured blood, already shed, from vials or chalices. Others drug blades across exposed flesh, allowing their lifeblood to splash against the glossy surface. The commanders called the formations to attention and the marines snapped to with a thunderous clap. The cult fell silent, cowed by the display.

A moment passed, the air pregnant with anticipation, then with a sound like a whip crack in reverse the inky surface of the dias began to ripple and churn and heave like stormy ocean water before illuminating with a pale light and droning howl. From the tumultuous pool rose a mighty figure, dripping in luminous metal.

Spears, axes, swords, shields, and even fire arms adorned his broad back, each a monument to a failed attempt to kill him. He rolled his great shoulders and unfolded his thick arms, spreading them wide and ushering a mighty, bellowing roar. The champions nealt as their lord towered over them. The marines followed suit and the crowd, now wild with zeal and fervor fell to their knees.

Had the Prince a face it would bear a satisfied grin. This was all of course, theatrics. He had already been on board the vessel for a few days now, and had already discussed the battle plans with his lieutenants for the encroaching Ork fleet, that even now as the ceremony proceeded drew closer and closer in what they thought was a sneak attack.

But this was Thodos' specialty. There were many Princes more powerful than he, even though he himself was a force to be reckoned with, and many a Tzeentchian Daemon several times more clever. But there was few with greater charisma, with a greater sense of gravitas. Thodos knew how to hold an audience, command respect, lead soldiers and be rewarded with loyalty. He was charismatic in was that Slanneshi lords could not be, not in that cloying, sickly sweet manner in which they did everything, nor through fear or mere domination alone like Khornate warriors. Thodos knew when to laugh menacingly, when to reward a soldier, how to punish failure. He had forsight and tactical acumen in all aspects if his existence, which is why he was a Daemon Lord with a successful warband and a large fleet.

Which is why every single approaching ork would find graves in the void.

He let out a deep chuckle, low and menacing, and waved a hand over the crowd, "RISE, MY LEGION." The crowd, marines, crew, and cultist alike cheered and hollered and screamed.

He was about to begin his usual inspiring speech when the claxons of the Pride began to cry out. Thodos was partly relieved, he knew the veterans had heard many such a speach before and simply wished to go back to doing whatever menial task they were entertaining themselves with. He also partly incensed, as he loathed above all things being interrupted.

He wasted no time in assuming command from his champions, striding to the edge of the dias, now solid and silent once more. "ASSUME BATTLE STATIONS, AND PREPARE FOR COMBAT!" His legion roared with glee as they poured out, and those whose place of duty was at the bridge itself rushing to their places. Without much preamble the Ork fleet jumped into view, evenly matched with his own.

"HAIL THE KAPTAIN. I WOULD SEE HIS FACE BEFORE IT IS SEARED OFF BY OUR WARPFYRE CANNONS."

The bridge obliged and the screen crackled and seethed before the blurry image of the ork Kaptain filled the display, "Ahhh, so if it izn't tha spikey warboss 'imself! 'Is time my kruzas will rip roight through ya puny spoikey defencez!" Thodos chuckled, amused, folding his arms behind his back, "YOU ASSUME MUCH, MY GREEN SKINNED FREIND. I WONDER IF THIS FIREPOWER SUPERIORITY YOU CLAIM TO POSSESS WILL HELP YOU AGAINST THIS!" He cut the transmission with a dismissive wave of his hand and the display then filled with the faces of the captains of his other ships, all confirming their positions. A perfect flanking maneuver.

He would have grinned, had he a face, and addressed his fleet, sweeping his arm towards the approaching xenos fleet, talons closing together and metal flowing across his arm to form a commanding blade, wreathed in crimson, crackling warp flame. As he did so he ushered a single command.

"CHIMERAS; ATTACK!"