"What meaning has conquest if the next day brings only ruin? What merit has an empire if it cannot be sustained? The glories of Mankind must be restored, and so we shall go to the ruined places and make them live again, and our Imperium shall have no end."

Quote attributed to Primarch Arelex Orannis, upon assuming control of the II Legion

War Scribes

Battle Cry	"Humanity Ascendant!"
Number	II
Founding	First Founding
Successors of	N/A
Successor Chapters	Knights Draconian, Knights Penitent, Iron Scribes, Sons of Whitestone, Sons of Atalantos, Sons of Orannis, Lore Bearers, Shrouded Host, Sky Renders, Venom Quills, Lightbringers, Rekindlers
Chapter Master	Ulreg Astelos
Primarch	Arelex Orannis
Homeworld	Whitestone (Destroyed), now the Atalantos Worlds
Strength	100,000 at peak
Specialty	Ranged combat
Allegiance	Imperium of Man
Colours	Grey and purple

This page details people, events, and organisations from the /tg/ Heresy, a fan re-working of the Warhammer 40,000 Universe. See the /tg/ Heresy Timeline and Galaxy pages for more information on the Alternate Universe.

History of the War Scribes

"From the ashes, glory."

Unofficial motto of the Second Legion, created after swiftly recovering from a nuclear assault in the Terran Campaigns"

As with the other First Founding Legions, the Second Legion's history is long, and often shrouded in the mists of time. The War Scribes have been through some of the most savage fighting of any Legion, and have recovered from the brink of annihilation on multiple occasions. Often derided as a weak Legion, only relevant because of their gift for technology, nevertheless the Scribes have proven over the millennia that they are survivors, and exhibit a curious optimism and a fearlessness that belies their bloody history.

A Legion Reunited: The Second Son Found

"We were fortunate indeed to have found our Primogentor so quickly. Not for us the confusion and soul-searching which many other Legions endured, instead we rapidly found purpose. Indeed, it was almost as if Lord Arelex had never gone missing, and each War Scribe felt truly blessed among the Legions."

Maestro Ferrorum Polix Creel, Master of Fellblade "Orkburner"

Less than ten years passed between the Emperor leaving the Terran system and launching his fateful assault on the infinite stars above. It seemed as though the Sacred Band of the II Legion had barely gathered under Hektor's wing before they were called to join their Primarch. Most Legions received some kind of nickname or designation before their Primarch joined them, but for the future War Scribes, there was simply no time. They acquitted themselves reasonably well in the early Imperial conquests, only truly distinguishing themselves in the "Shattering of Trellex IV".

The War Scribes Legion numbered only about 15,000 Marines after the conclusion of the Reunification of Terra, having taken significant losses when a series of nuclear weapons was used against the young Legion. Because of the intense bursts of radiation, several anomalies embedded themselves in the gene-seed, and slowly emerged over time. Most were minor anomalies, but their gene-seed stability was thrown into question when Melanchrome organ mutations began emerging, causing a wide and worrying variation in skin coloration.

The Emperor examined the gene-seed and declared it sufficiently stable, though not perfectly intact. Orders were given to the Magi of Mars to keep a close eye on the Second Legion's genetics, and tithes were increased ten percent, to ensure a useful quantity of samples. Communications between Scribes and Mars increased as a result of this decision, and a handful of technicians left Mars to travel alongside the Legion. In the future, other Legions would show more radical mutations and go mostly unnoticed, but in these early days any deviation was more noteworthy.

After the Legion left Terra, the gene-seed problems only continued to grow as the Second were exposed to more and more weapons of human offshoots, xenos empires, and other hideous creatures from beyond the stars. Their numbers continued to dwindle as a series of heavy blows at the hands of Eldar Corsairs slew many of their most experienced Captains, and rumors began to spread that soon the Emperor would disband the Legion altogether. The course of the Great Crusade pressed ever onwards nonetheless, and with Humanity's forces so concentrated in the still-small Imperium, Hektor took a personal hand in ensuring the Second Legion's leadership remained strong, sending several of his hardened Terran veterans to provide counsel and support.

The Second Legion welcomed these men with open arms, and redoubled their efforts in the face of ever-increasing challenges. The "Volemar Gamma Campaign", a hard-fought struggle against a strong Ork fortress infesting half of the entire planet, culminated in a brutal series of tunnel fights known as the "Greenburn". Within these last few dozen miles of tunnels running underneath ancient ruins of human colonies long since murdered by the Orkish menace, the Second Legion fought like madmen in tight quarters, laying into the foe with melta and flamer. Though the Legion dwindled to a mere 8,000 able bodies, those that remained were in higher spirits than ever before, having proved their worth before Hektor himself, driving the Orkish warlord from his bunker into the waiting guns of Hektor's men.

Hektor personally commended the Second Legion, honoring them with the flensed skull of the Warboss, gilded with gold and steel. It remains to this day as a memorial to the bonds between the two Legions, in place of honor aboard the War Scribes' flagship.

The Arch-Maniac of Calverna

The border of Segmentum Solar lay mere handfuls of light-years ahead, and for the first time, the Legions were about to push beyond humanity's "heartland" into the vast unknown. Near the border zone, auspexes detected the former Forge World of Calverna, long lost to humanity. Because the Second Legion was closest to that planet, emissaries from Mars sent a personal envoy to request that the Marines take part in its reconquest. Fighting alongside them would be a moderate detachment of forces from the Red Planet, and pre-battle cogitation indicated that a numerical superiority was likely.

Breaking from the main thrust of the Crusade, the Second Legion took a more southerly course, and within a few weeks came within visual range of the ancient Forge World. To the horror of the Magi, it was visibly ruined even from orbit, with great gouges torn into the crust, and mighty spires and forges toppled, reconstructed crudely by Orks for their endless wars. The central citadel remained strong, and it was from this fortress that the Warlord no doubt brooded over his vast realm. The fury of Mars was apocalyptic, and their iron hordes descended in wrath upon the planet below.

The Second Legion dropped directly into the citadel, whilst the Martians cleared away the outer walls of Orkish filth. If a decisive blow could be struck at the cancer's heart, the Orks within the main Forge could be pinned between the walls and cut down en masse. Resistance was intense, but sporadic. One minute, the Orks would be striking randomly, even shooting their own allies, and the next they would form into an iron wall of cannons, laying waste to all before them. The battle lines shifted a dozen times over the course of two days, as more and more Orks came boiling out of secret passages invisible to auspexes. A thousand Marines lay dead, cut off and isolated from their brethren, yet seven thousand fought on.

The Magi authorized orbital fire on the third day, no longer caring much about damaging the already ruined manufactoria of Calverna further, for it was clear that virtually everything had been corrupted or destroyed by the savage xenos. Brilliant lances from space boiled away Ork and metal alike, with only the central citadel remaining untouched. As uncountable Orks vanished into dust, what little coordination they had vanished. Taking advantage of the enemy's confusion, the Marines pressed forward with lightning speed, just as they had learned from mighty Hektor, and the enemy's sanctum lay bare before them.

At last, the monster whose mind guided the horde was there, wired into the endless rows of cogitators left from long-dead Martian technology. The Ork was a colossal, tortured wretch, his brain long since overwhelmed from the torrent of data pouring into his half-mechanical brain. Control over the Forge he had, and all its guns, but no one mind could effectively direct the power. The devastation wreaked outside had shattered what little mind the Ork had left, as the damage reports cooked his brain from inside out. For all his might, for all his armies, a wounded beast chained to a throne was easily killed. A lone Sergeant rushed to the throne, dodging electrical arcs and insane Grots to end the demon with a single Krak missile round.

Though devastated and battered by Ork and Imperium alike, it was a joyous day when the Forge World of Magnos Majoris finally shed its Orkish burden and stood alongside humanity again. An enormous task of purging the remaining Orks and rebuilding the ancient forges lay ahead, but the task was gratefully accepted by the Mechanicus, and the Second Legion earned much gratitude for their assistance in the planet's recovery. Within five years, Magnos Majoris would begin tithing its production to the Second Legion, and within a decade would become a primary Imperial Forge World fueling multiple assaults into Segmentum Tempestus and Pacificus.

And Then There Were Two

After almost a decade away from Terra, the Legions sensed a change in the wind, and an unusual urgency in the Emperor's actions. The Master of Mankind seemed more animated, more excited than usual, as the Legions drew closer and closer to an otherwise unremarkable world known as Whitestone, known only for its historical import of the finest quality ornamental marble used in ancient works of long-dead Terran nobility.

In orbit over Whitestone, the Emperor addressed the gathered Second Legion, and simply pointed outwards from the vaulted cathedral windows. Speaking simply and plainly for all to hear, their lord commanded simply: "Go forth, for your sire awaits below. No more shall you be fatherless, no more to be alone. Your conquests under Hektor's guidance in my name have been invaluable, but now you shall aid me through service to another. This shall be a day long remembered for the Imperium." The Second Legion descended on Whitestone, all but frothing at the mouth at the thought of meeting their lost Primogenitor, and found someone rather different than they had expected.

Arelex was a very different man than Hektor, scarred, battered and twisted of form in comparison to Hektor's regal bearing and heroic appearance. A bulky man, but a young man, with arms out of proportion to legs, a twisted spine and a detached gaze that belied little interest in human affairs. He was hardly the Primarch they had dreamed of. At first, Arelex wanted nothing to do with the Marines or the Great Crusade, having no interest in abandoning his archaeological studies and wandering across vast deserts of powdered marble and clay. The scattered people of Whitestone heralded Arelex as a prophet of one of their many gods, but even this was of little importance to Arelex. Though he could have dominated his world through religious authority, it too held no value to him. When told of the Imperial Truth, he took it as no great loss, for it changed nothing in his eyes. The priesthood ruled in his name, but he had no part in planetary affairs.

To the Second Legion, this was a far, far greater blow than nuclear attack or damaged gene-seed. The thought that their Primogenitor might not lead them, might have rejected them outright, left the Marines despondent and helpless. This was not supposed to happen, they thought. How could the Emperor have misjudged his son so badly? If Arelex wanted neither money, nor power, nor conquests, nor an army of devoted soldiers, then what *did* he want? What kept him from claiming such an incredible birthright? Did the Second Legion mean so little, then?

Father and Son

Finally, the Emperor himself intervened, traveling into the desolate wastes clad in nothing but simple pilgrimage robes, a backpack of strange tools slung over one powerful shoulder. Finding the wandering Primarch was a trivial task, and soon the Emperor came upon the small camp of followers that ever trailed behind their young prophet in the wilderness. Awestruck, the men and women quickly retreated to a safe distance, carefully observing the second superman to walk their world.

Deep, deep underground in a beautiful marble cavern, the Emperor came upon Arelex puzzling over cryptic runes of ancient human origin. These were unusual symbols, for they opened different pathways through the rock based on seemingly random combinations. Arelex had deduced many of them over the years, but it was painfully clear that far more important doorways lay yet unopened.

The two men spoke no words, for the ancient cavern's stillness was too precious to be shattered by human voices. The Emperor simply opened his satchel of equipment and set to work alongside his son, quietly and calmly picking apart the ancient mechanism's riddles. After three days, the portals were opened, and the final lock turned smoothly into place. Food, drink, shelter, the elements, the needs of the Crusade, the future of Humanity, all temporarily forgotten in the concentration of the moment. Ancient Man's mysteries did not come forth so easily.

The last treasure room was a small, simplistic affair. Merely a room perhaps ten meters square, with only a few battered, broken crates inside. Anything of value had long since been taken, in the dying days of Whitestone's Dark Age population. With a curious look, Arelex picked up one of the instruments the Emperor had brought along, and confirmed his suspicions. The auspex, also of ancient origin, clearly indicated the emptiness of these hallways and storage rooms. From the beginning, the Emperor knew nothing was there. Slowly, Arelex began to understand, that even shrouded within immense power and majesty, the essential human trait of curiosity and a love for puzzle solving burned within the Emperor as well, the desire to solve mysteries for their own sake, not for any reward.

At last, the Emperor spoke: "It is time to leave, my child. The riddles and puzzles of this world are no longer enough. I desire to unlock the Galaxy itself, and I would have you at my side, commanding the Second Legion of Space Marines." It was a peaceful, gentle order, but an order nonetheless. For such a powerful person as the Emperor, it could be nothing else, even the faintest suggestion became an iron command.

With a quiet sigh, as if gathering himself, Arelex responded: "I have spoken to the men who share my genetics, Father. They speak of only destruction and chaos, blood and fire and xenos corpses. I have little interest in war. But I can hear the songs of the ancients calling me from distant aeons, they resonate in my very bones. And... I know you know as well as I that with your arrival, I have a way off this nearly-barren world and I cannot resist. Promise me, father, that I will be allowed to conduct my warriors as I see fit and that I will be allowed to work so that the legacies of our people may not be ground to dust under my boots. I cannot be a battering ram, mindless and rampant, I do not know how to live that life. Grant me this boon, and I will be relentless. Nothing will bar my way, and you shall have all that I and my men can give."

With outstretched hand, the Emperor shook Arelex's, sealing the pact, and the Primarch of the Second Legion emerged from the caverns to thunderous shouts of joy from the assembled Legion.

At last, purpose.

The planet of Whitestone was drained dry of able-bodied recruits, swelling the Legion's ranks considerably. Each and every Marine was instructed in Arelex's knowledge and perspective on life, and he began instilling in them the love of learning and desire to preserve as much of ancient Man as could be managed that would come to so define the future War Scribes. The Legion that left Whitestone two years later, now 15,000 strong, was a more integrated fighting force than ever before. Though much replenished in manpower, precious few veterans remained from the Greenburn and the fight for Calavera, and their Primarch had never so much as fired a shot in anger. This could not stand, and the Emperor took action at once.

"Though you have learned much from Whitestone's ancient relics, man grows but poorly left to his own devices. The Second Legion must learn alongside their Primarch, so that all may act as one unified whole. Therefore, I order the Second Legion to travel to Mars itself, for there is much they can teach all of you about the mysteries of this universe, and I wish to strengthen the bonds of allegiance your actions have already begun to forge. Grow strong, my children, and may the Galaxy quake at your feet when you return from those red sands."

Swiftly, the Second Legion gathered themselves for the journey, and with elation set off for the heart of the young Imperium. The veterans were full of endless stories of humanity's heartland, and the neophytes eagerly hung on their every word. For his part, young Arelex spent a great deal of time with the Mechanicum delegates, grilling them relentlessly about even the most minute topics. The handful of noteworthy artifacts recovered from Whitestone were of great interest, and some of them would later be incorporated into a new blend of heat-resistant ceramite for Titan reactor chambers.

Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Steel

"To work alongside a Primarch and his Legion was... unique, to say the least. Though we had the advantage of a lifetime of training, the master of the Second Legion drank knowledge in as if he was a data-slate, and it was all we could do to stay ahead of his endless questions. My brother and I took a terrible gamble in working with the Marines, risking all that we had built on Mars in the quest for greater knowledge and glory. Our laboratoriums and enginariums, our network of contacts, our homes and colleagues, all this we abandoned to move aboard their flagship. I was permitted to take only a handful of Cybernetica with me, and those under the command of Secutor Fevrel Khain.

"For months the Secutor and I drilled the Marines, attacking them from all sides with automata. We even unleashed a few Warhound Titans upon them, to test their mettle against foes no bolter could topple. They learned perseverance under my watch, learned to take any hit in stride, shake it off and keep moving forward. They also learned not to let the Razor-Drones into close range. Students only need to have that happen once."

"Many of the Marines were quite badly injured when they arrived on Mars. It was a most illuminating experience fitting them with bionics, and I believe there are few Magi with as intimate an understanding of Marine anatomy as myself. Repairing the damage done to their Primarch during his infancy was a challenge, for the healing process in such a man begins as soon as the laser-scalpel fires. Resetting spinal vertebrae as the body attempts to eject one's mechadendrites was enlightening. The scars he bears will never heal, nor will Arelex ever have the tall stature and healthy appearance of his brother Hektor, but his spine now functions properly, and his legs are no longer bowed."

Logbook of Magos Dominus Scilla Kres, attache to the Second Legion

"Mars is a world bled dry, as you know. I've often heard it said that the dust is red not because of rust, but because of the billions who have died upon it. Though some would consider it an insult (even my sister), I have long felt that chopping off limbs just to staple on a new lho-stick lighter is a waste. Silicon can endure much that carbon cannot, but I've never seen a cogitator self-repair severed electrical connections either. There were so many Marines in need of healing when the Second Legion landed. Some had been mauled by Orkish fangs, some had been shot through by their crude weaponry. Some had crash-landed when their Stormbirds were shot from underneath them, and the list goes on."

"The Primarch seems to trust my sister's methods a little more than my own, but while she healed his old injuries, I was permitted to attend his children. The body of an Astartes is so much more vigorous than what you see on Mars. Most of my colleagues would simply cut off damaged organs and let the rest wither while they do, but these men can keep fighting under the most extraordinary circumstances by simply gritting their teeth and ignoring the pain. Would that machinery had such will to live. Cloned organs work extremely well for Marine physiology, though some injuries are beyond my power to heal. Those unfortunates I passed to my sister's care."

"Yesterday, I helped my sister enshrine a young Marine into a Dreadnought. Derik Polasii, I think his name was. Barely twenty-five years old. I was able to stabilize the remains of his body quite effectively, and he only cried out once when I finished the final nerve-staple. No arms, no legs, half his face torn off by Ork fangs. Even after all that, he simply wishes to return to war and get revenge on the xenos. After hearing of the reconquest of Calavera, and the Emperor's plans for the Galaxy of Mankind, I have no doubt that the Legion will grant him that request. And I shall be beside them."

Logbook of Magos Biologis Namov Kres, attache to the Second Legion

"Inadvertently, the utterly guileless Primarch had kindled a long-dead spark upon Mars. It would not be forgotten by his allies, nor his enemies."

Unknown Imperial Historian

Some months later, the warfleet of the Second Legion broke Warp above the ancient world of Mars. For the Legion veterans, this was familiar ground, for the new recruits it was awe-inspiring. What the Primarch saw, none could say, for he said nothing. Disembarking, they were greeted by brother and sister Magos Biologis Namov Kres and Magos Dominus Scilla Kres, and their bodyguard and ally Secutor Fevrel Khain. Greetings were short and to the point, and within hours the battered Second Legion was already beginning the repair and refit process.

Primarch Arelex left his men to the ministrations of the Magos siblings, and disappeared into the arcane databanks of Mars, consulting with any Magos willing to share their knowledge. The records of Mars were fragmentary at best, but the Primarch's mind sifted through the most obscure fragments, piecing them together like a gigantic puzzle. Discoveries were made almost daily, many small and obscure, but some that had great ramifications for reawakening the ancient power of Mars. Arelex cared nothing for personal fiefdoms or rivalry between Magi, and stepped on many mechanical toes in his thirst for lore. Initially, many high-ranking powers on Mars rankled at this outsider smashing his way into their carefully orchestrated webs of power and knowledge, but in time it became clear that Arelex never took, merely copied. He never hid what he learned, but distributed it to all. And he never acted out of personal dislike for any given Magos, only concerned with their dataslates.

Slowly, Mars began to respond to this tornado in their midst, and as various Magi saw themselves elevated by the Primarch unraveling hidden powers within their data, resistance slowly gave way to competition for his attention. Just as Hektor had drawn the powers of Terra around himself, and as other Primarchs would do upon their homeworlds, so Arelex drew the sands of Mars around himself. Even one as focused as he could not fail to notice the change of demeanor in the crowds around himself.

Student became teacher, even as he continued to learn. Moving up the hierarchy at blinding speed, the lesser Magi taught the Primarch all they had to offer, and as he moved beyond their knowledge, in his turn Arelex passed down what he learned from those above them. The Primarch's great skill was the ability to find patters in even the most garbled data, and to teach what he had learned. As Arelex often said, "Knowledge is useless when chained." The lower ranking Magi almost universally adored this mentality, for they saw in it a path to power and influence, but those used to being atop the pyramid took a dim view of Arelex's approach to technology. Still, he seemed to be on to something, and even the Fabricator-General found himself opening his databanks to the Primarch in hopes that some treasure might be recovered for his use.

The crowning jewel in this crusade of learning was indeed found in the Fabricator-General's possession. The Titans of Mars were mighty indeed, but struggled to function even under the light Martian gravity. Warhounds served adequately well, but the mighty Imperator-class Titans were almost immobile, crushed under their own weight. By tracing the data-chains between a thousand chips of information, Arelex extracted an encrypted file hidden in pieces within hundreds of thousands of archives. Some ancient Martian desired it hidden well during the Dark Age, for no doubt the runaway Men of Iron desired such technology, but with a colossal mental effort, Arelex retrieved and decrypted the files describing how to repair the anti-grav generators necessary for every titan to walk freely, even on planets larger and heavier than Terra.

As the ancient Martian Legions trod the dusty soil once more, even the Fabricator-General was willing to acknowledge Arelex's risky delving had a little merit. Tradition would still rule the day upon Mars, and caution was still necessary when reawakening the technological powers of old, but for at least a brief time there was a minor Renaissance upon Terra's sister world. Competition was still the norm between Magi and between scientific disciplines, but now there was also a distinct undercurrent of awareness that cooperation could bring just as much benefit as solo research.

Arelex became something of a celebrity on Mars, giving lectures to packed auditoriums as often as he fought Cybernetica alongside his Marines. With that celebrity came an increase in recruitment, as the ranking families of Mars sought to gain acceptance for their bloodlines within the Legion. Many sons of Magi were tested as Marine applicants, though a disappointingly small number of them actually passed. The thin blood of Mars struggled to contain the gene-seed of an enhanced warrior. Still, some hundreds did pass the bar, and brought with them an educated perspective and a logical mindset to the Legion.

The manpower-packed moon of Phobos and the endless Martian underhives produced far more worthy recruits, and from these Marines the Legion gained warriors with talents in void-craft and unorthodox "percussive maintenance". Taking in these neophytes swelled the Second Legion's numbers considerably, bringing them back to a more functional thirty thousand able bodies.

During the handful of years the Second Legion spent upon Mars shedding blood and tears in the pursuit of excellence, they began to gain the colloquial name of the "Ironsand Legion", though it would not last.

Lorehunting: Long Road to the Core

"It was the very best of times, young ones. The very best. Thunder and fire bent to our will, and nothing could hold us back. World after world we laid at the Emperor's feet, having picked the carcass to the bone in our unquenchable thirst for that which was lost. Blueprints and technical manuals and STC fragments poured into our Legion's cogitators, and we became known as warrior-scholars of the highest order. By blade and by book we conquered, the sword and the pen wielded with equal ease. The techniques of ancient warlords we mastered, and the fury of Dark Age Man we carried onto the field of honor. It was during these days that less enlightened Primarchs and their Legions deemed us the War Scribes, a nickname of derision which we turned into a badge of honor. Though our progress was slower than most, no other Legion knew as well as we how to make the Imperium's new land so quickly a productive cog in the great machine."

Avcollon Harkess, Venerable Contemptor Dreadnought formerly of the War Scribes' Third Chapter, addressing new Chapter recruits in the 36th Millennium"

Slowly but surely, the Second Legion advanced into the Galactic East, pressing deeper and deeper into uncharted lands. Flush with the vigor of their Primarch's leadership and the support of Mars, the hammer of the Ironsand Legion ground xenos and human empires alike to dust. The "Burning of Volganis Beta", the "Scourging Beneath Twin Suns", the "Black March Crusade" and dozens more were added to the Legion's honor rolls.

With a grim fury, the Ironsand fleet burst from the Warp above their targets upon every yet-unconquered world. Carefully, they observed each planet with potent Martian auspexes, seeing that which was invisible to lesser eyes. Finally, with targets of interest identified, the unstoppable hammer descended, and every manner of tactical maneuver brought to bear.

It was in these early days under Arelex's tutelage that the Ironsand Legion exhibited their most diverse methods of attack and defense, a breathtaking variety never to be equaled again. In particular, many of Hektor's favored styles and techniques were taken apart piece by piece, examined like jewels under a loupe, and reassembled in novel and exciting ways. In this way, the Second Legion paid respect to the man who had guided them before Arelex's arrival, showing their appreciation for his gifts by proving their complete understanding and mastery of his ideas. The students were *determined* to become the masters, and show themselves worthy of respect.

With each triumph, the Primarch steadily narrowed down an endless field of options, creating a reserve of combat wisdom breathtaking in its simplicity and utility. In essence, Arelex distilled many different stratagems into their basic building blocks, and trained his Marines in their use on the fly buy assembling relevant chunks into a new and responsive whole. While the specific elements were rigidly applied and often formulaic, the War Scribes were never at a loss for how to respond to changing combat situations.

Worryingly, some situations were still cause for concern, particularly emerging during the "Defense of Specularia", a world that would live forever as one of the Ironsand's most difficult conquests. The planet of Specularia was of little value to the Great Crusade, save for its strategic location at the intersection of not two, but three major Warp routes. The currents of the Immaterium flowed strong and swift here, and the Imperium's ships gained great momentum by harnessing its exceptionally smooth and pliant flow. The inhabitants were a simple, brutish people, with little wit in their heads and strength in their limbs with which to resist the Second Legion, and the planet flew the Imperial Aquila within two days of their first landing.

Over the next several months, Arelex oversaw the usual Imperial restoration, landing immense quantities of material, prefabricated Manufactorums, civilian populations, and all manner of other vital gear. Things went well, for a time, but the more humans settled on Specularia, the more unnatural incidents seemed to occur. Minor at first, a workman might lose his tools, then find them in an impossible spot out of reach, or a mother might set her child in its crib, only to find it playing happily on the floor a few moments later. As the incidents became worse, the currents of the Warp grew turbulent, and Arelex couldn't say which one was causing the other. He knew the Warp responded to emotions, the Emperor had told him as much, but was it cause or effect at play here?

Before he and his Legion could answer this question, a massive Warp Storm broke upon Specularia, casting malignant energies across the globe. All three Warp currents bent and twisted, disgorging titanic quantities of energy in all directions and temporarily cutting off almost a tenth of the Legion from their brethren on other Crusades. The Scribes looked to their trusty weaponry, bracing themselves for what was to come. The currents from beyond space were so bad that the Legion's well-organized command structure broke down into squads commanded by Captains and Sergeants, and sometimes without any ranking officers at all. Communications broke down entirely, just as the keening wind took on an altogether more menacing, hungrier tone.

The Warp did not like these new interlopers, and it showed its displeasure by reawakening the horror that slumbered within Specularia's inhabitants. Strange veils of energy enveloped the plodding simpletons, infusing them with unnatural vigor and a thirst for blood. Neither dirt, plasteel, ceramite or adamantium barred their way, for they simply passed through such obstacles with no more effort than a man might press forward into a light breeze. From every angle the half-phantoms struck, strangling the life from the Marines in truly horrible fashion. Totally disorganized and cut off from command, the Ironsand Legion was left to its own devices, and in their rising panic they failed to attain the mental calmness and discipline that Arelex's modular doctrines demanded. Helpless before the rising fury, hundreds of Legionnaires died within minutes.

In bits and pieces, in squads and Companies, the Marines rallied over the course of several hours, falling back whenever the Warp hurled a new wave of phantom killers their way. Bolters were of no avail, but plasma rounds proved at least moderately effective. The scent of terror and death permeated everything, and raw strands of blood, bile, and other bodily fluids drifted perversely through the air like macabre streamers at a victory parade. Nevertheless, the Scribes held their ground. Working with inhuman speed and accuracy, the Primarch deployed a powerful mobile communications array, managing to pierce the screaming veil for a few moments.

Ordering the crew of the Lunar class cruiser Furious Justice to abandon ship, he commanded its captain to engage the Warp Drive and detonate the ship at the intersection of the hostile Warp currents. Captain Jicaeo Gelen went down with his vessel, and with his last breath, moments before the howling Warp claimed him, he saw the lurid, unnatural colors of the Immaterium recede from Specularia. Captain Gelen would be immortalized forever in the annals of the Legion, and one of their finest Battleships would bear his name throughout the Great Crusade, serving honorably in countless actions.

One thousand, three hundred and twenty-seven Legionnaires met their end that day, out of three and a half thousand proud warriors who had made planetfall only months before.

The Ironsand Legion had faced the Warp's fury and come through to the other side, but at great cost. Even more than the material damage, even more than the lives lost, both human and Marine, the Second Legion lost part of their confidence. The universe was no longer so predictable, and Arelex's tactics were *not* applicable to all situations. When faced with unpredictable terrors, the Marines showed a tendency to freeze up, to become indecisive, and this cost them many men. Another Legion might have lost themselves in the savage needs of the moment, and so fought their way free, but the Ironsand warriors could not separate thought from deed, and so were ill prepared for the madness of the Warp to cloud their minds.

It was a lesson they would take to heart, but the Legion would never be quite the same after Specularia. Tougher, stronger, more alert and knowledgeable, but always with the awareness that their tempered blade still held brittleness within.

Arelex in particular would never forget the lessons the Warp taught him that black day.

The savagery of Specularia behind them, the Legion busied themselves with the minutia of managing their rearmament, hoping to let time heal the mental fatigue that had taken hold of the shell-shocked warriors. While the other branches of the Second Legion ground onward, those who survived the Warp storm remained close to their Primarch, moving forward only slowly. Arelex knew his men needed a breather to regain their fighting form.

They would not receive it.

The Octarian Hydra

The Legion's path carried it to the south and east, taking a wide route around the Maelstrom. Though their numbers had recovered to a potent 30,000 strong, every Ironsand Legionnaire had taken the lessons of Specularia to heart, and wanted as little to do with clearly Warp-tainted areas of the Galaxy as possible. Unkowingly, they were passing through the space owned by the Overfiend of Octarius, and the Marines became engaged in a brutal series of battles over a broad front, stretching several hundred light-years.

Arelex's talents for strategy and logistics were pressed to the limit, grinding away at the seemingly endless Orkish hordes. Though the Imperium's powerful weaponry and dogged discipline proved invaluable in paving the way for the Imperial Army to strike deep into Ork-held worlds, and the technological know-how of Mars allowed many planets to be purged of Orkish spores, the Ork menace was simply too unstructured, too fluid in its assaults, and its manpower too limitless. Counterattacks came from all sides, and no conquered planet considered itself safe.

Slowly, Arelex began to understand that he faced something far different than his warriors had ever handled before. The Greenburn, Calvera, and dozens of other isolated Orkish planets were utterly insignificant compared to the looming, shadowed menace lurking before the Second Legion. Far from random strikes, these Orkish invasions acted as though directed from a central control point, and moved with purpose. The Ironsand Legion were interlopers in the den of an angry beast, and his hands reached far and wide to crush the irritation.

The frequency of the raids intensified with each passing day, and the Legion's modular tactics proved useful for fending off the small offensives. Each Ork Warboss fought in a different fashion from his peers, and so the Ironsand Legion created new tactical combinations to match them. Seeking information on the foe's nature, Arelex led the bulk of his fleet into the jaws of Orkish space, shattering their way through the Orkish lines. With the shock of so much weight of arms behind them, the Second Legion crushed through all in their path.

Of perhaps a hundred or more worlds near the Legion's sweeping advance, almost eighty were fully cleansed of Orkish taint, and a line was cut across most of the Sagittarius Arm establishing a barrier. Primarch Arelex set up a staggered defensive cordon of Fortress Worlds here. These planets would contain the Ork in the space near the Galactic Core, prevent them from retaliating into Segmentum Solar, and create a staging point for future Imperial assaults upon his worlds. The gate was open, and now the door had to be forced. Arelex would turn his back to the Sagittarius Arm for now, and strike down upon the remaining Ork worlds with the rear flanks covered.

These Fortress Worlds became known as the Sagittarius Wall, and their Mars-crafted ramparts would guard the entry to the Sagittarius Arm for long millennia. For nine thousand years the Sagittarius Wall would hold, eventually crumbling completely only in the 39th Millennium.

Infuriated by the audacity of the Imperium, the Overfiend himself emerged from his savage base of power, and the Second Legion found themselves abruptly on the back foot after so many initial successes. Modular tactics meant nothing in the face of unbridled force. Billions of Orks struck at every occupied planet, and swarms of Orkish vessels dueled in the void. In a matter of months, the Second Legion was thrown back from more than forty recently conquered worlds, and the damage to men, machines and morale was immense. Every possible stratagem was tried and found wanting. The Ironsand Legion was forced back into the defensive cordon they had erected just a year before, fighting savagely just to hold the green tide, now a full-fledged WAAAGH! at bay.

Mars rallied to the beleaguered Legion's aid, and the reborn Calvernan Forge World of Magnos Majoris led the charge. Dozens of Titans, multiple Mechanicus fleets, and uncountable Cybernetica and Skitarii solidified the Sagittarius Wall alongside the soldiers of the Imperial Army, and beneath their protection, Arelex gathered his forces for retaliation. Thinking back to their original successes, it slowly became apparent that the Orks must be taken by storm, before they could communicate with the rest of the titanic hordes. The Ork horde was mighty, but took time to redirect against new threats. Strike with maximum force, then mop up the survivors in detail. Perhaps this was the key. In any case, it was a terrible risk, for the Ironsand Legion could not afford a failure. Mars had no more to give. No second chances.

Now, though, the Second Legion had a target. The Ork Warlord was forced from his iron throne to herd the various Warbosses under his control in the right direction, and Imperial communications identified the hub around which his empire spun, the planet of Octarius. And so, the orders went out. "Press forward to Octarius, at any cost. Burn the planet to the ground, and slay its master. Nothing else will end this war."

25,000 Marines, backed by huge numbers of Imperial Army and Martian soldiers, unleashed the gathered might of the Imperium like a Battle Cannon shell, crashing into the Orkish lines. The Orks were ill-prepared for the sortie, believing the Imperial forces caged within their bastions. The strike which opened the cordon of the Sagittarius Wall had taken roughly a year's hard fighting to complete. The Legion had been pinned against it for three times that duration. The lightning drive towards Octarius saw the Ironsand fleet in orbit overhead within six months, for the Overlord's attention was elsewhere as he attempted to bring down the Wall.

Octarius burned at once, the Legion knowing its time in orbit was limited. No Marines landed, the planet was simply burnt to ash by orbital bombardment. Uncountable Orks died in that inferno, and the Legion's navy laid waste to the Roks and other Orkish vessels under construction in the Overfiend's vast orbital yards. From there they broke into five sub-units, each 5,000 Marines strong, and burst outward like the spokes of a wheel. Turning towards each other, they sliced an enormous circle through space, chopping it into pieces like a colossal pie. Turning in upon themselves, the Legion crushed everything in their path. Without leadership, the Orks were too busy fighting amongst themselves to withstand the deadly blows. The core of the Overfiend's empire, nearly two hundred worlds, was reduced to nothing but a scorched husk.

The Overfiend was forced to respond to this unexpected hammer-blow, and reports from across the Sagittarius Wall came in that Orkish presence was decreasing precipitously as they turned to crush the Primarch. Surely, the Overfiend would not be long in coming, once his remaining forces were rallied. Upon the mountainous world of Erichian IV, cleared of Orks barely a few weeks prior, Arelex would make his stand. The craggy peaks were fortified with all available strength, enormous bunkers and fortifications were constructed with the help of the Mechanicus, and the Imperial Army prepared itself to annihilate any Ork that made planetfall.

In orbit, Arelex waited with his fleet, hoping to blunt the Overfiend's counterattack as much as possible and bleed them white while the planetary defense batteries still stood operational. 20,000 Legionnaires held key points on the surface, and the remaining 5,000 gathered in Assault Boats for a very particular mission. Once the Primarch was satisfied that the defenses would hold long enough, they would strike at the head of the beast, and hunt the Overfiend in his own flagship. Two months later, a colossal monstrosity larger than any Imperial battleship exited the Warp near Erichian IV, and billions of Orkish throats gave the terrible WAAAGH cry over every vox.

The void crackled with gigajoules of energy, and untold numbers Orks and men met their fate, crushed from existence by naval ordnance. The Imperial ships stood the test well, bolstered by Mechanicus improvements and carefully tended to by passionate Engineseers. The fleet made a methodical fighting retreat, allowing itself to be pushed back from the system's rim to within the orbit of Erichian IV's sizeable moon, almost a planet in its own right. Using the bulk of the moon as cover, damaged Imperial vessels fell back to effect emergency repairs before returning to the front line. Ork vessel after Ork vessel burned and flared into titanic explosions, and the Imperial forces killed a dozen ships for every one they lost, but even still, the Overfiend's reserves kept pouring in.

Finally, the fleet was forced to take cover completely, pulling back out of range of Orkish guns as the Overfiend directed his attentions to the planet below. Millions of Orks died before ever making planetfall, but the Overfiend simply crashed half of his crude ships into the defense batteries, wiping them out and causing terrible casualties. Orks poured from the shattered wrecks, charging heedlessly into Imperial gunfire. The Cybernetica took the brunt of the first strike, their mechanical bodies counting for nothing in the balance of power. Though armored and immune to fear and blood loss, the Cybernetica eventually gave way when the Orks finally closed to slugga range, hacked to bits upon the planet's blasted surface. Behind the Cybernetica, the Ironsand Legion waited at the ready for the moment to strike.

Two days into the fighting, Primarch Arelex deemed the moment ripe. The Overfiend could not land more troops, lest the Imperial fleet swing back around the moon and shatter them piecemeal as they prepared to de-orbit. Nor could he turn to strike the hidden Imperial fleet, because his forces on-planet would lose their reinforcement stream. By Arelex's reckoning, he had the Ork pinned exactly where he wanted him, the immense body of Orkish troops split and critically reduced in leadership and effectiveness. Rounding the moon, the Gloriana-class flagship set its engines to full and prepared to ram the Orkish command vessel. By forcing the Overfiend into the fray in orbit rather than on the ground, the Primarch believed that the Orks on Erichian IV would break apart and be destroyed piecemeal.

In the void of space, there was no sound as the two gigantic vessels slammed into each other. Driven back by the Gloriana's immense thruster drives, the Overfiend's flagship slowly fell from orbit with an unbelievable impact, embedding itself deep into the moon's crust as its own engines sputtered to a halt. Plumes of fire quietly drifted away, accompanied by clouds of shrapnel and drifting bodies of Ork and Man, and from the fleet's perspective there was a kind of calm now that the Ork's guns were silenced.

Inside was a different story, as klaxons wailed and the entire battleship groaned under the immense strain. Within minutes, the Marines were back on their feet, charging across the ruined hull segments into the Orkish flagship, shooting anything that moved. For eight hours, the five thousand Marines battled a hundred thousand Orks, striking from place to place with overwhelming force and never allowing the Orks to bring their mass to bear. The Primarch was an engine of destruction, barreling through bulkheads and tearing Orks apart with his power armored gauntlets, constantly urging his soldiers onward.

The Overfiend's command bridge had come through the shattering collision remarkably well, all things considered. Components crackled and sparked, and broken shards of metal lay across every surface, but who could say how good they looked before? Mekboyz weren't exactly known for their attention to detail, nor their care for maintenance needs. The Overfiend lurked within the red-tinged gloom, a titanic mass of flesh and bioniks shaded black in the blood red emergency lighting. Primarch Arelex ripped open the ruined doorframe, forcing his way onto the tilted bridge, and behind him were dozens of picked Ironsands veterans.

The Overfiend laughed deep within his chest, a hideous gurgling rumble like a damaged Stormbird engine. "You may 'ave killed me boyz, humie... You moighta wrecked me fav'rite ship... You even busted up me stompin' grounds... But this ain't over till I says it's over, you 'ere me? Da biggest Ork rules da ovvas, and dey'll rally to 'is banna no matter where 'e goes. I'll kill you lot roight here and take ya skulls wiv me, and get me anuvva WAAGH! Dis WAAGH's boyz wasn't good enuff fer the scrap, sure. They ain't fought nuffin worth the teef in years! You lot proved dat. But da next one will be betta than eva, coz da next boys'll be 'ard as as a tanned Squig! I's just gotta kill a few more Humies ta do it, I fink. Simple-like."

"I will cut your cancer from this Galaxy, Ork. There is no place in my father's Imperium for filth like you. Prepare to meet your heathen gods, for I will break you upon their idols." With an unexpectedly primal howl of rage, Arelex lunged straight for the Overfiend, emptying both Storm Bolters into the Ork's chest. Armor shattered and blood flowed, but the Warboss was simply too big and too dense for the bolter rounds to have much effect. Laughing, the Ork backhanded the Primarch across the bridge, slamming Arelex into a bulkhead twenty feet away. "You'z gonna hafta do betta than dat, Humie! I've been 'it harder by me Squigs!"

The Ork's gloating was silenced by three Ironsands Legionnaires slashing at his Power Klaw wielding left hand with power swords and chainaxes, causing sparks to fly as the pristinely maintained Imperial tech strove to destroy the crude but nearly indestructible Ork iron. "GET DA ZOG OFF ME, YOU GROTS! I AIN'T 'ERE TA FOIGHT DA RUNTS OF DA LITTA!" In a twinkling of an eye, the Overfiend had the three marines pinned to the ground underneath the Klaw, megajoules of energy pouring form the crude bionik and frying the men within their armor. A sickly smell of burned flesh filled the air, and the Ork drank in the new atmosphere with relish. "Maybe you Humies are good for sumfin' after all, yeah? Smells like you's good eats!"

Even as his men died in agony, the Primarch was back on his feet, rushing inside the Ork's guard while the heavy Klaw rested on the floor. Feet securely planted, Arelex delivered punch after punch to the Overfiend's exposed face, neck, and shoulders. The Primarch's overdeveloped arms, grown strong in his infancy by taking the slack from his ruined legs, shattered flesh, bone, and bionik alike as the Overfiend staggered backwards. Arelex spoke no words, merely advancing forward in cadence with every stumble the Ork took. Relentless body blows with armored gauntlets began to take their toll as the Overfiend gasped for breath, his bioniks shutting down in the increasingly stale air. With a herculean effort, the Ork brought his damaged Klaw high overhead, delivering a crashing blow to Arelex's upraised right arm. The Primarch's armor cracked and shattered, but he held the mortal strike at bay. Regaining his breath, the Overfiend tore off a huge chunk of flesh from the right side of his chest, revealing a battery of cannons hidden beneath. "You like it, Humie? I got some good bitz after me Squiggoth got too friendly. Now, DIE!"

A dozen plasma rounds spiraled out from the hidden launchers, catching the Primarch squarely in the chest. Armor ruined and enshrouded in crackling energy, Arelex fell to the deck, barely conscious. The Warboss laughed evilly as he brought the Klaw's pincers around the Primarch's exposed neck. "Ya did good, Humie. I won't ferget ya, I promise ya dat. But I'z gonna burn yer Imperium-fingy to da ground fer dis insult. I promise ya dat, too."

"Not today, Ork."

The ruined bulkheads had been cleared, and all that remained of them was a few thin sheets of metal blocking the bridge access. Kicking down this last paltry barrier, the remaining Marines in Arelex's bodyguard leveled their heavy weapons upon the Overfiend's damaged body, unloading as one in a torrent of bolter shell and plasma fire. At the beginning of combat, the Ork could have weathered the storm, but the Primarch's strikes had weakened his defenses beyond hope. The Ork fell backwards for the final time, eyes boiling with blue fire as plasma energy dissolved his guts and flared out from every wound. Clambering slowly to his feet, Arelex spat a gobbet of bloody saliva into the ruined corpse, watching it sizzle in the flames.

"Ave Imperator."

Though the fighting on Erichian IV would last nearly three more months despite the Overfiend's death, for such massed hordes had inertia all their own, nevertheless the Imperium triumphed. Hundreds of worlds enslaved to the Xenos were freed, and though many had been consumed entirely for the Orkish war machine, many still held human populations held in thrall. The Imperial Army and the Mechanicus were hailed as heroes, and the Ironsands Legion led the cheering, for without their sacrifice holding the Sagittarius Wall, the Legion could not have gathered its forces for the telling blow. Five years later, the Overfiend's legions were purged from nearly every planet, and the base of the Sagittarius Arm was an Imperial domain.

The Gloriana flagship was refloated, repaired, and rechristened the Ascent of Man in honor of the Legion's achievement. Its shattered prow, formerly styled into an Imperial Aquila, was instead recarved into a likeness of the Overfiend's enormous skull, clenched in an armored Marine gauntlet just as it had been when the Primarch held it aloft to the cheering troops on Erichian IV. Ugly and tasteless, yet undeniably intimidating, the Legion would never forget what their flagship represented. No xenos could bar their path.

During the titanic efforts to construct the Sagittarius Wall, Arelex became aware of some unusual technological artifacts, buried deep within the soil of dozens of worlds. Though broken and nearly unrecognizable, torn asunder by some unknowable force, there yet remained a glimmer of technological excellence about them. The materials of their construction were arcane, but clearly terrifically advanced, and Arelex began to hope that these might be the signature of ancient Mankind's work. The Wandering Chapters were sent to scout and excavate in all directions, and as the reports trickled in, it became clear that the greatest density of these artifacts lay towards the Galactic Core. No planetary or stellar obstacle daunted the Primarch, and he gave orders for the majority of the Legion to alter course away from the spiral arm, and instead set their sights directly on the blazing fires of the Galaxy's heart.

The skies were ablaze with light, and all around the Scribes were thunderous suns and fire-blasted worlds. Though a few within the Legion had misgivings, and many of the Imperial Army commanders voiced private doubts as to the need for this quest, none would gainsay the Primarch, as the enormous fleet muscled its way into the Core. More and more relics they found, most corroded to uselessness, but some of great potency. Fragments of STC devices were here, as well as more of the strange artifacts from Octarian space. Small populations of humans yet lived, even in this harsh, hot, radiant realm, and these were quickly integrated into the Imperium. A handful of worlds were established at the fringes of the Core, to be used as supply depots and repair bases. The Imperial Army was more than happy when Arelex commanded the majority of them to be the rearguard for the Legion, recognizing the folly of deploying unaugmented humans in this area of space.

The trail ran cold before the Legion had pressed more than 20% of the distance to the black hole at the center of the Galaxy, and for a time, Arelex was at a loss. And just when he thought it time to abandon his quest and return to the cooler realms elsewhere in the Galaxy, one of the Wandering Chapters reported... something marvelous.

Sagittarius Crusade: Colonization of the Atalantos Worlds

"Atalantos, glorious Atalantos. Central jewel in the crown of our ancestors, mighty temple to the optimism we all once held, and the heights we sought to achieve. Today of course, these wonders are becoming tarnished and worn under the still-lingering weight of the Great Betrayal, but never forget that our ideals still remain, shining brightly despite these ages of darkness and woe. Think always, Initiates, to the curious optimism of the Primogenitor. He is rarely described as such in Imperial records, but we who knew Lord Arelex in person remember the bravery and courage required to travel a realm of space that daunted even Mankind of old. Never did the Primarch falter, once his mind was made up, and we followed him to glories undreamt of by lesser men. So long as you all live, so long as you bear the banner of the War Scribes Chapter, remember that you too aspire to greater things than other men dare dream. Nothing is lost, so long as we never stop seeking it out, bringing it back, and making it whole once more."

First War Scribes Master of Sanctity Fordrex Ducelle, addressing a gathering of Initiates after their formal induction into the Legion, circa late M31.

Within a pocket of calm inside the Core's storm, a lush, green world awaited the wondering eyes of the Legion. As Arelex and his men made planetfall, the sheer scale of the mighty fortress hidden within the oceans of plant life staggered their imaginations. As tall as a Hive City but many times wider, the building had clearly been crafted by the hand of Man, and later abandoned for reasons unknown. The ancient city, empty yet pristine, contained many wondrous devices, and titanic databases from which much lore was rediscovered. The vessels of the War Scribes' fleet worked tirelessly, beaming petabytes of data back towards Mars and Terra, for the learned men and women therein to peruse. From these treasure troves of knowledge would come many of the Imperium's most powerful machines of war, and perhaps more importantly, the Scribes discovered a detailed map of the Core Region.

The planets and stars had moved but little, even over the millennia since the maps were made, and it was a trivial task to resynchronize them. Gathering his Marines to the ancient citadel, Arelex addressed them with a new vision of the future.

"Soldiers of the Second Legion, hear me! I had not intended to tarry in this place for long, and my plans were limited to simply excavating whatever tidbits we could find, before returning to the Emperor's side. But seeing this place, this... unimaginable triumph of our distant ancestors, I feel it imperative to restore it to Humanity's service. I believe this planet to have been the staging point for an ancient human attempt to civilize the Galactic Core, and though they did not succeed, faltering at the grasp of Old Night, their records indicate many planets, rich with resources and vital to controlling this space. The Imperium needs these worlds, and it is my belief that the Emperor will hold us in the highest regard should we succeed at this task. The Legion will halt here, and dedicate all its efforts to subjugating these worlds, and we shall bring in all the apparatus of the Imperium to support us in our task. There can be no half measures. I have seen that there are yet enclaves of Humanity, cast adrift among the burning suns, and they have been isolated for unknown thousands of years. It is our sworn duty as defenders of Mankind and servants of the Master of Mankind that we restore them to the glory that should have been theirs. Let the fire of your purpose outshine these blazing stars above, and go forth in the name of Humanity! Ave Imperator! Imperio Aeterna!"

It is said that the entire Dark Age fortress, newly christened the Basilikon Atalantos, shook with the sound of the Legion's thunderous approval. This was the job they were surely meant for. With a rapid-fire series of orders, the Imperial Army began to lumber forward, escorting hundreds of colonization ships and factory vessels. Soon, these lands would belong to Humanity once more. It was clear why the newly colonized world of Atalantos was valuable to Dark Age Man, for its magnetic field, boosted by the arcane Basilikon Atalantos, was crystal clear, strong and stable, barring much of the otherwise intolerable radiation. The stars merely provided endless light for oceans of cropland, and the War Scribes wasted no time tending to their gardens. Within months, gigatons of agri-produce cheered the hearts and flavored the palates of every gathered Imperial citizen, and with this unexpected boon, they felt confident that the Imperial Aquila would find a permanent roost.

World after world fell to the iron tread of Imperial might, and the Core trembled at the thunder of excavation equipment and dropships loaded with construction materials. Most of the planets near Atalantos were barren and lifeless, but the Core was bursting at the seams with mineral wealth. Endless oceans of human bodies, most of them criminals from across the Imperium, were poured into the ever-deepening mines. The tongues of ten thousand worlds mixed in the Atalantos Worlds, as they were being called, and ten thousand Imperial Governors praised the War Scribes for removing their human refuse that so afflicted them. Life was brutally harsh within the sweltering mines, but the rewards to the Imperium were beyond measure.

Industrial Worlds sprang up almost overnight to drink in the gathered material from dozens upon dozens of Mining Worlds, and from their primitive but numerous forges, tidal waves of processed goods emerged. Arelex was having an enormously thrilling time bending his skills to the challenge that suited him so uniquely. All that he had learned from Hektor and his father about statecraft, industry, management, logistics, and science he brought to bear, the endless reservoirs of data within his mind working around the clock. Here at last, Arelex felt certain that he finally understood the purpose for which the Emperor had created him.

The War Scribes Legion too was enjoying their labor. Each day, they landed with a new wave of colony ships, and set about the daunting task of exterminating the native life forms. Most were simple beasts, mindless though powerful, and their purging was accomplished swiftly and easily. On some worlds though, they encountered a xenos species known only as the "Deathpulse", enormous masses of star-like plasma, bound by magnetic fields and riding the currents between stars. These titanic xenos, many times larger than any Imperial vessel, would descend into a planet's magnetic field and rip apart any organic material they could find, sucking entire biospheres into their mysterious forms.

On more than one occasion, the Scribes came under assault shortly after making planetfall, for the Deathpulse were attracted by the sudden appearance of active energy and weapons. Dozens of colonization ships were lost, along with hundreds of Marines slain inside their armor, before Primarch Arelex was able to devise methods by which Imperial plasma weaponry could be tuned to disrupt the creature's life sustaining magnetic envelopes. The Deathpulse were driven back at the cost of millions of Imperial lives, but they could not be eradicated entirely. The creatures reproduced inside the coronas of stars, where the Imperium could not reach. Driven back, but eternally watching, the vengeful xenos still wait for the last dying of the Imperial light, endlessly thirsting for human flesh and bone. The Imperial Navy is their tireless foe, and each year assaults are launched from the Atalantos Worlds to remind these bizarre creatures who the true masters of the Galaxy are.

Though the Legion's progress was slow, which concerned the War Council, the steady stream of treasures returning to Terra, and the declaration from Arelex that a truly terrible xenos species was in need of his full attention to be hurled back into the darkness from whence they came, the minds in charge of the Great Crusade gave tacit consent that the Primarch should be allowed to pursue his goals. How much influence the Emperor exerted on their decision remains a mystery to this day, though in the context of later eras, it seems likely that Arelex was fulfilling the Emperor's purpose set for him at his birth.

Forges of War: Pheldavii, Rell IV, and Amavix Prime

Ancient Humanity needed technological devices just as primitive Man did, and just as the men and women of the Great Crusade required. Tens of thousands of years ago, colonists from the Red Planet ventured forth into the unknown across the Galaxy, and the Galactic Core was no exception. Isolated from Mars and the Cult Mechanicus, three such Forge Worlds were rediscovered by the Scribes, and brought into the fold. Though all were educated in the tenets of the Omnissiah, as AdMech creed and Imperial legalities required, they remained worlds apart, with very different cultural mores than those lands under the Mechanicus's thumb. Separation breeds independent thought, and these three Forge Worlds were independent indeed. In time, each would play a major part in the history of the War Scribes.

The Forge Worlds also brought with them a pair of Knight Worlds, long charged with the defense of the sacred forges, and providing them with food and manpower in exchange for training Sacristans, and manufacturing new Knight Titans for their various Households. Six in all, the Knight Houses of Atalantos brought much needed heavy firepower to Arelex's cause. And much sooner than any had expected, their strength would be sorely needed.

Eternals

Despite the amazing successes and the rapid progress of the so-called Sagittarius Crusade pressing ever deeper into the Core, the War Scribes could tell that their leader was growing troubled. The archaeological treasures he had hoped to find failed to materialize, other than the wondrous Basilikon Atalantos, and occasional fragments of unknowable items, maddeningly, tantalizingly close at hand. Arelex's calm disposition began to evaporate into a frenzied rush of excitement and frustration, and he scoured ancient tomes and starmaps for hours on end, lost in a mental world of calculations and predictions. If only he had more data, or some new spark of an idea, surely he could delve into the minds of ancient Humanity, and derive where their lore might be hidden. It was an unbearable pressure.

Following the trail of a dying Deathpulse would open the doorway to a dark and terrible secret. Lashing out in cold, vengeful rage, Arelex repaid the Deathpulse for his Marines' deaths himself, hunting down a small family of the gigantic xenos and hammering away at them with relentless plasma fire. In their dying moments, bleeding energy into the void, the Primarch's sharp eyes began to notice strange echoes in the auspex readings. The more Deathpulse met their end, the clearer the readings became; there were immense caverns of metal underneath some of the nearby planets. "Of course", Arelex thought to himself, "They hid their treasures underground to protect them from supernovae and other dangers. No wonder I could not find them..." Word spread like lightning among the War Scribes Legion, and as one, 90,000 Scribes descended upon these planets, deeply, deeply buried in the Core, almost within naked-eye sight of the central black hole itself.

The ancient vaults were cold, dark, and sterile. The footsteps of the Legion felt almost profane, disturbing the silence of the vaulted temples. Arelex was aglow with feverish energy, for everywhere he looked, some new marvel of technology presented itself. Within minutes, powerful scanning arrays were put to work piercing stone and metal alike, straining their cogitators for the merest hint of the ancient devices' inner workings. Unfathomable volumes of data hurtled through the void into the waiting memory banks of the orbiting fleet. Slowly, Arelex's grin turned to a horrified grimace, and then a contorted snarl of seething fury. The devices were not human at all. Only xenos work awaited them here, foul, blasphemous mockeries of humankind's genius. More frightening still, this was the work of xenos so clearly advanced that even Arelex himself could only dimly comprehend their potency and function. And as he realized this, the first panicked shouts from the advance teams deep within the catacombs began to filter back through the comms.

Almost as soon as the scouts were attacked, the xenos were past them into the main body of Imperial soldiers. Man and Marine died as one under a withering thunderstorm of greenish lightning, pulled to pieces and turned to dust with every unholy strike. Thundering orders, Arelex rapidly called for a withdrawal, to fight outside of the enemy's killing grounds. But so fast were the xenos machines that the retreat became a rout, and the Second Legion broke and ran. The shame was nearly unbearable, but the Primarch managed to assess the situation with a cold, logical eye from the command room of the flagship.

"The enemy caught us by surprise. In a universe of unknown horrors, this is well within the bounds of possibility. Remember this well my soldiers, a lost battle is of little import if by losing it you learn what you need to win the war. Even before I walked with you, you did not succumb to the cowardly nuclear strikes on Terra. You rebounded from the nightmare struggle of the Greenburn. The Warp-spawned horrors of Specularia were ground beneath your heels, and from great loss came a Legion yet stronger than before. Even the damnable Overfiend of Octarius and his infinite hordes, and the planet-eating Deathpulse were bound and contained by our hands. From every loss of life, from every near-defeat, the War Scribes STAND. BACK. UP. It matters not if your foe knocks you down, my sons, so long as your hand is around his neck at the struggle's end. The Atalantos Worlds, our growing flame of Imperium, are yet young and fragile in the face of this new threat. If the Imperium is to master the furnace at the Galaxy's heart, it falls to us to cleanse it! The fallen have died, that we may rise stronger than before and make their sacrifice count! Ave Imperator! From ashes, glory!"

The War Scribes were unused to such passion from their leader, but in this moment many of their veteran troops looked to each other and thought "Thus was Hektor upon Terra, driven and passionate. So shall our Arelex be, for Hektor's lessons were not lost." And thinking this, they raised their voices in loud assent, and set an example for the younger Marines, still licking their wounds, remembering the dead, and dreading a return against those terrible xenos devices. But with shouts of challenge and death to the xenos filth, the Legion slowly began to rally. Urgent calls were sent forth, and the War Scribes' fleet gathered from every corner of the Atalantos Worlds to form an iron fist of Imperial might, blazing with passion to defeat Mankind's enemies.

The orbital fight would be swiftly won, for Arelex was determined to strike once more before the xenons fully awakened, and so it would fall to the Marines to once more scour the caverns with bolter fire and plasma round. But this time, they would not be alone. The twin Knight Worlds of the Atalantos region were loading their sacred chargers aboard War Scribes vessels even now, and they were salivating at the thought of foes worthy of their wondrous machines. And though ground down over millennia of resource starvation, fending off Orks, Eldar, Deathpulse, and numerous other foes, each of the ancient Forge World's Titan Legions would take the field as well. Their numbers were but 60 in total, and even combined would barely represent what Mars would consider a true Titan Legion, but against these handful of xenos worlds they were a truly formidable force.

Legio Nyxata, Legio Illanex, Legio Salaion; these names would carve a new history into the stars, at last breaking the chains of gravity and riding in voidships once more. Standing in their shadows, though no less proudly because of it, would ride the Knights of House Singul, House Steelborn, House Magolos, House Enkidesh, House Redmoor, and House Acremorin. Many Freeblades were there as well, bearing their personal heraldry with pride. Such a mighty mechanical fist could not help but carry the day for Humanity once gathered together, and their pilots sang warhymns with pride as Magos and Sacristan alike consecrated their imperial steeds, girding the Machine Spirits for war.

With the Scribes, Titans, Knight Houses, and Imperial Army regiments under the guidance of a Primarch, a storm of Imperial fury descended upon the mechanical xenos foe. For most Imperial Historians, the first shots of planetary bombardment upon the first of what would become nine Tomb Worlds mark the true beginning of the decades-long conflict known as the Sagittarius Crusade, for which all before was but a footnote.

Beyond Atalantos: Tempestus and Ultima Crusades

WIP

Isstvan V: Legio Secundus Undone

WIP

Treading Water: Recalling the Wanderers

WIP

The Burning Crusade: Blood, Fire, Iron and Redemption

WIP

From Ashes, Glory: The Scouring

WIP

Return to Terra: The Primarch, The High Lords, and the Mechanicus

WIP

Whitestone's Destruction: A Bargain in Blood

WIP

From Legion to Chapter: The March of Ages (Late 30th Millennium to the Year 40,000)

WIP

Summary of Legion II

Ranged Combat, Data Analysis and Collection, Tech-Intuition

Legion Doctrine and Chapter Cult

"These are the words of our Primarch and gene-sire, Lord Arelex Orannis. Here are the codes we live by, recorded for all time. Let there never be doubt in your minds of the correct path to take, in any given situation. We know the truths of the universe. We have seen the terrors that lie beyond the path of righteousness. The evidence is insurmountable and clear, and to defy or ignore it is the purest folly. Now, Initiates, repeat after me, the Oath of Orannis!"

"First Address" recited by the Chapter Master of the War Scribes for each new graduating class of Initiates, at the completion of their training and gene-seed implantation.

The Oath of Orannis

Never shall the War Scribes use the tools of the Xenos, for those tools will betray them.

Never shall the War Scribes use the winds of the Warp, for those winds will sweep them away.

Never shall the War Scribes use the powers of the Mutant, for those powers will renounce Mankind.

We solemnly swear and affirm that we shall uphold the ancient traditions of the Chapter, of the Primarch, of the Emperor and his Imperium.

We shall serve with our whole hearts, our whole bodies, and our whole minds. Though the powers of the Warp howl about us, though the Xenos swarm from the Galactic Core, though the Mutant ever lurketh in the shadowed places, forever onward will we carry the Imperium's torch.

We seek the enlightened future promised us by the Emperor, and we seek the glorious past promised us by the Primarch.

The glories of Mankind are our sacred quest, and nothing will stay us from that goal.

Our righteousness will shake the stars, and our will shall be done, for it is the Emperor's will that we do so. Ave Imperator!

"Good, Initiates! Now, repeat after me the Five Truths of the Primarch, as passed down through the Chapter Masters of old, to remind you that a War Scribe sees beyond the veils that blind lesser warriors! Rededicate yourselves to the ideals of the man who could hold the Galaxy itself in his mind! Honor the gifts of planning, of logistics, of strategy on the grandest of scales that the Primarch has granted his children!"

"Second Address" recited by the Chapter Master of the War Scribes for each new graduating class of Initiates, at the completion of their training and gene-seed implantation.

The Five Truths of the War Scribes

FIRST TRUTH! All things proceed from the Highest Scale, from the Galaxy around us. Our Primarch knew this truth, unto which lesser men are blind!

SECOND TRUTH! Planning is the highest achievement of a Marine, for Mankind is more than a mere beast, acting upon instinct and nothing else. Killing the enemy in battle is right and proper, but winning the battle at cost of the war is heresy. The War Scribes seek always to understand the grand scale, the big picture, the ebb and flow of the Galaxy itself. Who leads the troops? Where are they going? What will they find when they get there, and how shall they best overcome the threat? A thousand thousand questions, all of which the War Scribes are charged to answer!

THIRD TRUTH! Logistics is our supreme struggle, for war is impossible without materiel. To master the Galaxy, we master its resources. Careful stewards are we, neither treating our charges too lax nor pressuring them beyond their means. Harshness when it is called for, not for its own sake, for misuse is heresy!

FOURTH TRUTH! Though the Galaxy is forever at war, each war has an end. As we are stewards of the Emperor's Imperium, so must we see to his empire after a war has passed. The War Scribes must always be builders as well as destroyers, for to abandon the Emperor's people to their fates is to spit in His very face, a capitol offense! Let lesser Marines blunder from war zone to war zone, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. The War Scribes hold themselves to higher standards!

FIFTH TRUTH! Our Primarch was a master of the technological realm, and so are we, his children. Ancient Mankind could snuff stars with a gesture, and destroy armies of xenos at a glance. Wherever we go, whatever we do, we shall always keep our eyes open for the relics of greater eras, and seek to return them to the Imperium's service!

This we swear, in the Emperor's name, in the Primarch's name, and the name of the Imperium! Ave Imperator!

Legion Colors

"Behold, my sons, the colors you shall bear with pride! Not for us the gaudiness of other Legions, not for us the flattery of a machine-spirit with empty praise. Forevermore, the War Scribes shall wear their armor unpainted, as a symbol of deeds before appearances, save for trimming our gear in purple, to remind us of Human nobility, of Marine honor, of Imperial glory."

Quote attributed to Primarch Arelex Orannis, shortly after assuming command of his Legion.

The Legion's livery is unpainted ceramite gray, with only a small amount of purple trim. They go about their business garbed in thick shrouds, cloaks, and robes, in honor of their Primarch's childhood journeys into the unforgiving wilderness of his homeworld in search of lost treasures, and to represent their roles as keepers of knowledge. A warrior of the War Scribes is also never caught without at least a few pouches or satchels of important items, in case he is called upon to record some new tidbit of lore or explore a mighty ruin.

Notable Legionnaires

The Sacred Band: Squad II

Ereleius the Red, Blood Scribe.

One of the most fanatic War Scribes, practicing ritual scarification on his own body as a means of recording the most important bits of knowledge granted him on Terra. The words of the Emperor, he engraved on his very bones. Ereleius's work led to the establishment of the "Inscribed" Armor that all War Scribes Chaplains would eventually wear, and Ereleius himself would do great service to the Legion as their Grand Chaplain, ensuring that all remained pure. After the Heresy, his work would continue as the Grand Chaplain of the War Scribes' Chapter.

Mohxes, the Warp Scribe.

This Marine was and remains the only true Librarian of the Scribes, a valuable and highly skilled Marine who achieved the rank of Sergeant just before his Primarch was found. Mohxes' attunement to the Warp was enormous, steadily growing stronger as the Marine became more practiced in its use, and so Arelex was forced to send him before the Emperor himself for judgement for he was still solidifying control of his Legion and establishing their doctrines. In those early days, Arelex had yet to develop the fanatical hatred of Psykers he would exhibit in the future. Because the request was so unusual, and came directly from one of His sons, the Emperor actually took some time to train Mohxes, certifying him pure and performing a ritual similar to what would later become Soul-Binding, though with much more finesse. This eased Arelex's concerns immensely.

Mohxes' final gift to his Legion was to stifle his own powers after the Council of Nikaea, upon hearing his Primarch's rejection of people such as himself. He disobeyed his Primarch at Isstvan, unleashing his stored power to ensure that the Legion's naval arm could escape the blockade by casting an enormous force shield into space to cover their retreat. It is said that Mohxes' sacrifice was the one and only time Arelex even considered the idea that he might have been wrong about Librarians and their potential benefits. Regrettably, Mohxes did not survive his herculean effort, and died in orbit over Isstvan.

Bilzaion, the Delver.

Bilzaion spent most of his time on Terra digging through the savant's databases, practicing his Primarch's art. His efforts would prove crucial during the Heresy and the rebuilding of the Imperium afterwards. Later, he would become Chapter Master of one of the War Scribes' Second Founding Successors.

Wolzhi Steelblood.

This Marine was once a being of simple flesh, but integrated bionics into every part of his body over time, laboring many years in order to prefect himself as an engine of war. Wolzhi's cybernetics are works of art, integrating ancient sciences with medical technology from distant, half remembered eras of Man. For many years, he was responsible for maintaining the War Scribes' most precious weapons of war, but despite his enhancements, the betrayal at Isstvan claimed this brave man's life.

Pluthach, Willbreaker.

Pluthach is a master of getting inside his enemies heads, analyzing their writings, songs, artwork, and history to make his men fearsome in their eyes. When Pluthach leads a strike team, they invariably look, sound, and act like the demons or villains of their enemies mythology, and gain the advantage of fear. Regrettably, Space Marines know no fear, and when the Traitors betrayed the Legion at Isstvan, Pluthach was among the dead.

Hellakonis, the Earth Striker.

Hellakonis is a master of planetary assault, the Legion's foremost expert on planets and how to properly subjugate them, even beyond his own Primarch. He's also the Marine who named Arelex's melee weapon, for it was said that Hellakonis is the mattock with which Arelex cleaves planets. Fell at Isstvan.

Napotiel Greybeard.

Napotiel holds a special place in the roster of the War Scribes, being the very first member of their Legion. It is no secret that Napotiel and Arelex don't get along well, because Napotiel was never on board with the decision to take the Atalantos Cluster which consumed so much of his Legion's time. Though he respects his Primarch, Napotiel would forever remain a Terran born, full of a fire for conquest that few other War Scribes could match. Napotiel would distinguish himself as the War Scribes' foremost explorer, ranging far and wide across the Galaxy in the quest for relics, and the hunt for new threats to eliminate. His records are required reading for every War Scribes Scout.

Celsam, the Xenos-Crowned.

The War Scribes fought long and hard to overcome the Necron threat, and none more so than Celsam, who personally led eight missions to infiltrate Tomb Worlds and destroy what lay within. His armor is bedecked with broken shards of dead Phaerons and Crypteks, and a metallic Imperial Laurel adorns his helmet, made of their melted-down Resurrection Circuits, ripped from their unliving bodies before he slew them. Celsam still fights on in the Galactic Core, piloting an advanced Cavilier Dreadnought with great gusto. He has not been awakened for almost two thousand years though, for reasons the Chapter cannot fully explain. They fear the damaged warrior inside may have finally died a natural death, though they dare not open the sarcophagus and risk killing him to find out.

Ang-Quos, the Cremator.

This Marine spent a lot of time speaking with the Sons of Fire Sacred Band, and learned to enjoy burning things almost as much as they did. During the Heresy, the Marine was placed in charge of many of the War Scribes' Exterminatus-class weaponry, which he used with great gusto after Arelex went slightly crazy and ordered the deaths of almost a hundred worlds. After the Heresy, Ang-Quos rapidly distanced himself from the Sons of Fire, but the Legion never truly trusted him after they saw how ready he was to destroy, rather than reclaim. This was especially problematic when the Sons of Fire, alongside the Eternal Zealots, launched the Burning Crusade which so ravaged the Atalantos Worlds. Ang-Quos volunteered to go on a suicidal series of raids against the two Traitor Legions, culminating in a valiant last stand where he broke the back of the Traitors' final push for Atalantos itself.

Lygrammon, the Master.

Lygrammon spent a great deal of time speaking with every other Marine he could find, desiring to understand the perspectives of those not born to his Legion. He developed many friendships, though many would have to be cut off during the Heresy, and much of what he learned shaped how the War Scribes fought or fought alongside other Legions, Traitor and Loyalist alike. Lygrammon survived Isstvan, only to fall during the Great Scouring.

Other Notable War Scribes

-WIP-

Legion Gene-Seed Status and Defects

The War Scribes and their Successors exhibit a wide array of genetic abnormalities, growing more pronounced in those Chapters that spend more time near the Galactic Core. Successors in other areas of the Galaxy tend to exhibit only very minor defects, or even none at all. While not particularly notable for stability, there are no mutations inherent to Arelex's descendants, but their Progenoids do respond to increased ambient radiation.

Cosmetically, the War Scribes are known for their general hairlessness. It is very rare for them to have much more hair than peach fuzz on their heads, and they are almost always beardless and bald. Their skin color varies wildly depending on how recently they've been exposed to radiation due to an overactive (though highly effective) Melanchrome system. A War Scribes Marine might begin the day as a bone-white albino, and end the day looking as if he had been carved from pitch black coal or obsidian. Occasionally, reddish or purplish hues may appear as the Marine's body processes cellular damage and expels dead cells through the bloodstream.

A Marine's body attunes itself to the environment in which it lives, and nowhere is this more true than for the War Scribes. Even within their power armor, the radiation of a million blazing stars near the Galactic Core still leaks in, and when they are deployed to the blasted wastelands within the Core they must withstand the punishment.

Their bodies have adapted to absorb hard radiation and convert it to internal power, at the cost of some of their bone density and two implanted organs, the Omophagea and the Neuroglottis. For the War Scribes, these glands do not work at all, though for some of their Successors they do if they're in an area with less radiation.

The signature mutation of the War Scribes is their Betcher's Gland, however. Far from being the relatively useless organ so often ignored by other Marines, it is central to the War Scribes' bodies.

Instead of producing acid, the Gland serves as a sort of sacrificial organ to concentrate and store energy from radiation or radioactive sources, protecting the Marine's body from excessive rad-levels. When deadly radiation falls on a War Scribes' skin, the Melanchrome supercharges briefly, and the Black Carapace underneath channels the energy into the Betcher's Gland. While this is a useful adaptation, it is quite painful, and the Scribes try to cover up as much as possible. In addition to their Power Armor, their signature cloaks are lined with lead and other radiation-absorbing or reflecting compounds.

Science is as much art as tool in the 40th Millennium, and the intense Galactic radiation has caused one particularly unusual side effect which despite all their enormous storehouses of lore and technology, they cannot explain. Through their Betcher's Gland's energy storage, the War Scribes can occasionally unleash the stored energy in a manner akin to Tyranid Bio-Plasma bursts. This process is extremely painful and the Glands then go dormant for a week or two to recharge, so the Scribes use it only rarely. Additionally, though they are a First Founding Chapter, it is a fairly extreme mutation and they have no wish to draw the Inquisition's attention more than they have to.

If a War Scribe leaves the Galactic Core for too long, the Betcher's Gland will simply wither and die if they do not take steps to consume radioactive materials, which will keep the Betcher's Gland charged, though it does cause them nausea and puts stress on their immune systems.

Legion Tactics

"Be unafraid, my children, when facing that which lurks among the stars. Know that always your brothers stand beside you, behind you, and above you. We are as one mighty being, all parts in place and united in purpose. Let the foes of Man beware our inevitable advance, for we shall betray no weaknesses. From every angle, let bolters extend, and no treachery shall prevail against you."

Short speech given by Primarch Orannis to inaugurate the War Scribes' advance into the Galaxy under his command after his rediscovery

Calm, methodical, and somewhat predictable, the War Scribes have a rare gift among Space Marines. They are *brilliant* when planning grand campaigns, masterful at plotting out multi-stage wars of conquest on Sector or Segmentum-wide scales, and are experts at ensuring that the troops have the supplies and other necessary logistical materiel. All Marines are masters of war, but the War Scribes' leadership is capable of holding an entire battlefront in their minds, examining each detail with a careful eye. They are a "big-picture" Legion, concerned more with collective success than individual heroism, and fall short in understanding how combat works on a squad level. To master the large scale, they gave up some of the small.

Some Legions appreciate the War Scribes’ assistance in their wars, utilizing their unique perspective on war and its making. Others deride them for their personal shortcomings and deem them unfit warriors, for it is a rare War Scribe indeed that exceeds the individual combat prowess of other Legion's soldiers.

They lack the bloodlust that most other Legions exhibit, preferring a solid, relentless advance, backed by the highest technology they can muster. Where other legions favor boldness and aggression, the Scribes favor tried and proven methods, and seek to be assured of victory before the battle even begins. They are dour warriors not given to emotion on the battlefield, but to those that earn their trust, they will go to the ends of the Galaxy to assist them in their times of need.

The War Scribes prefer to engage the enemy as a disciplined force, presenting an iron wall of heavy equipment and powerful ranged weaponry suitable for mowing down any opposition. Their equipment is of high quality, and vehicles and weaponry considered rare by other Legions is commonplace in the War Scribes' ranks.

If the enemy closes to melee range, the War Scribe's carefully orchestrated fields of fire are less of a benefit and more of a burden, and their formations are slower to respond to unexpected changes on the battlefield than other Marines might be.

Orbital support is commonly employed in order to thin the enemy's ranks before engaging them with direct-fire weaponry, and this tactic has proven quite successful at suppressing Necron forces near the Galactic Core. Unfortunately, when the Scribes fight on inhabited worlds, they tend to cause a great deal of collateral damage in pursuit of an efficient victory. If a Hive Spire must be destroyed by a lance battery in order to prevent a Daemonic incursion, then they will fire on Imperial citizenry without hesitation. Still, they do not act with malice, but with an eye towards the good of the Imperium as a whole.

Legion Organization

Unit Structure

Frontline Chapters

By and large, the War Scribes are organized according to fairly simple principles. Out of 100,000 Marines or so, there were 90,000 belonging to 90 frontline Chapters of a thousand warriors each and their support elements. Each of these frontline Chapters were divided into two Battalions of 500 men each, rotating the Battalions into and out of war zones to spread the attrition on both. At the lowest level, the Battalions were divided into five Companies of 100 Marines, and thence into five Squads of twenty warriors.

Wandering Chapters

Ten thousand War Scribes were selected to leave the main body of the Legion almost as soon as Primarch Arelex took the reins of command. He personally selected the cleverest, the most independent-minded, and the most resourceful to be the Legion's eyes and ears in far off places. These Marines, though technically part of Chapters, would operate divided into no more than 100 man Companies, and more commonly splintered into the twenty members of a Squad.

Many questioned the Primarch's wisdom in sending their best and brightest out into the Galactic wilderness without support, but Arelex remained adamant that information was the greatest weapon the War Scribes could wield, and if they were to properly prosecute the Great Crusade, both they and the Emperor needed such intelligence available as soon as possible. It was a great burden the Primarch laid upon these soldiers, but also a sign of the very greatest trust. The Wandering Chapters were a hellish crucible, and many of these Marines never saw their Legion again, but their tireless exploration and covert operations laid the groundwork for the War Scribes' relentless advance into the void.

The Wandering Chapters retrieved many STC fragments and other examples of technology and relics, immensely expanding the Scribes' datavaults. Without these Marines' effort, the Scribes would never have found the Sol Invictus, or the Necrons in the Galactic Core.

Specialist Ranks

Chaplains:

Chaplains of the War Scribes are honored indeed. Even before the Council of Nikaea, the Chaplains were an integral part of the War Scribes' organization, and some of the very first Astartes to begin studying means by which to counteract the Warp, at the direct request of their Primarch. The War Scribes believed from the very beginning that the Warp was something to distrust, though they had no idea of the true scale of the horrors lying within the Immaterium. The Council only served to reinforce their viewpoint on the matter, and after the trial was concluded, Primarch Arelex gave orders that the Chaplain program be expanded significantly.

By the beginning of the Hektor Heresy, there were many War Scribes Chapters with several Chaplains per Company, sometimes even as high as one per Squad. Increasingly often, Sergeants and Chaplains were one and the same rank, and the War Scribes began to look to the Chaplains for battlefield leadership as well as moral and mental guidance. This trend would continue throughout the Horus Heresy as it became more and more obvious that the Warp was an enemy to be feared. By the 40th Millennium, though not all their Successors would adopt the policy, the War Scribes Chapter itself had officially instated a merger of Sergeant and Chaplain. Any Marine deemed good enough to lead a Squad was also held to the very highest strictures of moral purity, and required to provide spiritual leadership as well.

Post-Heresy, the machinations of the Warp were bitterly engraved on the bodies and minds of all the surviving War Scribes, and their former convictions once held ironclad were shaken to the core. It was a profound shock to many in the Legion's upper echelons when the temptation to embrace the powers of the Warp and reinstate the Librarian program reared its ugly head, causing dissent within the Legion.

On the one side were the Scribes that wholly believed in their Primarch's words that the Warp was to be abhorred, mostly the veteran Legionnaires. On the other side were the younger generation of Scribes, mostly raised in the emergency rebuilding program after the Isstvan catastrophe and had been faced with fighting Daemons without psychic tools to use themselves. These younger warriors believed that denying the Librarian program, while noble, risked dooming the entire Legion for no better reason than adherence to outdated traditions.

In an unprecedented step, the entire War Scribes Legion gathered itself within the halls of the Basilikon Atalantos and voted on the matter, rather than let fear rule the day. Each and every Marine would be given a voice, because without common consent, the Scribes risked fracturing their Legion irreparably between pro-psyker and anti-psyker factions. Many War Scribes claimed that their Primarch had made his decision to ban psykers without truly understanding the foes they faced, and that change was necessary to survive.

A compromise was reached. No psykers would become War Scribes, but the Chaplains would form an indomitable bulwark against Chaos, and the Legion would embrace anti-Warp defense, rather than Warp-based offense. No expanse would be spared in the Chaplain armaments and training, and any useful tool that could be placed in their hands that did not draw upon the Warp would be granted them. The War Scribes took a gamble at the end of the conclave, risking their very souls on the belief that the Warp could be defeated without using illicit or corrupt techniques.

Over the long millennia after the Heresy, most War Scribes Successors continue to uphold this compromise, but there are a handful of Chapters who have renounced the old ways and make use of Librarians, generally those Chapters farthest away from the Atalantos Worlds. Though the War Scribes Chapter disapproves of these decisions, they have chosen to remain silent in the matter, acknowledging that they can no longer dictate policy for all the sons of Orannis. And perhaps, it may come to pass that the Primarch was truly in error. Though the War Scribes revere his words and seek to uphold his will, Arelex himself passed down a tradition of preparation for as many different circumstances as possible, even those that are distasteful.

So serious are the War Scribes' demands upon their Chaplains that it was deemed necessary to dedicate enormous time and effort to developing special equipment for them. Using the finest archaeotechnology available to the Legion, Primarch Arelex created tools by which runes of purity could be inscribed on armor, flesh, and bone, layering the Chaplains with multiple barriers and shields against corruption all the way down to their core. Special rites of hypno-indoctrination were created for the express purpose of teaching Chaplains to spot the smallest influences of the Warp, and it is said that only the finest of Inquisitors are better judges of an individual's corruption. Finally, each Chaplain is implanted with a special bionic oculus that permits them to briefly peer into the Warp with reasonable safety. Though risky, this implant permits them to see through walls and other objects to spot Daemons lurking in the shadows.

Each War Scribes Chaplain carries with them an enhanced Crozius whose power field is attuned to Aetheric vibrations. Though somewhat weaker against foes of the Material realm, it is far more devastating against those who rely on the powers of the Warp. Eldar, mutants and Traitor Marines alike rightly fear such weapons.

Sky Hunter Squads:

Though normally the War Scribes are a slow, methodical Legion known more for relentless advances en masse than for wars of maneuver, they do have a curious love for the Jetbike, as an example of the wonderful technology of ancient Mankind. Despite the effort required, the War Scribes have taken great pains to ensure they are well supplied with Jetbikes across the entire Legion. Honored with these machines and burdened with great responsibility, the Sky Hunter squads are a cherished element of the War Scribes' organization.

With rare exception, the reconnaissance arm of the Scribes is composed almost entirely of these powerful, versatile vehicles, and the Scribes have developed a number of variants for different purposes. Some Jetbikes carry plasma weaponry, others may bring a pair of heavy bolters to the fray or a brace of grenade launchers. A handful are even equipped with Power Fields, in order to protect the Marine riding the bike. Usually, this is an option only for Captains and above.

Because the Jetbikes can perform aerial drops from Thunderhawks and other similar vehicles, the War Scribes have chosen to use their enormous reserves of Jetbikes to all but replace the more fragile Assault Marine. Though the Assault Marine has some utility in urban environments, few War Scribes willingly undertake such a role, preferring armor and firepower to personal mobility. Typically, the War Scribes don't even use Assault Marines as a dedicated role, instead keeping a small reserve of Jump Packs in each Company's armory and issuing them as needed.

War Scythe Formations

War Scythe Formations are a later innovation of the War scribes during the Heresy, in response to the overwhelming firepower arrayed against their depleted forces. Rather than allow the Sky Hunter Squads to operate in dispersed formations, they instead began to coordinate a handful of Jetbikes, usually 2-5, to a single modified Javelin Attack Speeder, equipped with heavier armor, better engines, and a special Force Field that could be expanded to cover a wide area and shield the formation, though only for short periods. This Javelin gave up the second crewman and pintle bolter, as well as some of its missile carrying capacity, but the increased survivability of the formation was deemed more important.

Recon was of little use if the Jetbikes wound up instantly destroyed, after all.

Techmarines:

Techmarines occupy a strange role in their Legion, given the bad blood between the War Scribes and Mars. During the Great Crusade, Primarch Arelex sought to make his Legion as independent as possible from Mars, personally training many of the Marines who would manage the impressive armories of the War Scribes. The Orannis Accord mandated that the Scribes use Mars to train Mechanicus-approved Techmarines, and the Scribes adhere to the letter of this law, but the rank is not well-loved or respected. It is not uncommon for the Scribes to simply pass along maintenance rites handed down from Marine to Marine since ancient days, and more than one Mechanicus observer has voiced his disapproval upon seeing a lowly Sergeant tuning his own armor, or a Scout tweaking his Sniper Rifle's settings.

The most successful Techmarines are those that can navigate between the Scribes and the Mechanicus, reading the emotions and mindset of both, and oddly enough are some of the most diplomatic Scribes within the Legion. Though many consider it strange to see a red-armored warrior bristling with mechadendrites acting as a diplomat or mediator to other Imperial forces, it is a surprisingly common occurrence with the sons of Orannis.

Destroyer Squads:

The War Scribes care little for collateral damage in the field, for any enemy that necessitates weapons powerful enough to cause collateral damage is an enemy that has surely corrupted any useful items they might be concealing. Necron worlds are worthless, Eldar Maiden Worlds are laced with clever traps and treachery, and Chaos tainted worlds must be delivered unto the pyre. All of these foes must be destroyed as quickly and efficiently as possible, for their unnatural abilities are a gaping unknown that cannot be factored into the War Scribes' plans.

To that end, every Company is equipped with a separate Squad of Destroyers, in order to level the playing field. To be a Destroyer is a great honor for the Legionnaires, knowingly accepting the risks and responsibilities of handling their deadly cargo. Though the War Scribes have higher quality gear, the only path a Destroyer can travel leads inevitably to death on the battlefield, death through cancer and radiation poisoning, or interment into a Dreadnought.

Phlegthos Dreadnoughts:

The handful of Destroyer Marines that prove worthy are given Dreadnought chassis tailored to their skills. With little more vulnerable biology to damage, and the armored Sarcophagus to shield them, these "Phlegthos" are found using all the various Dreadnought types, but with their standard armaments replaced with Rad, Volkite, and Phosphex weapons. For example, a Phlegthos Hellfire-pattern Dreadnought might wield a twin-linked Volkite Weapon and a missile rack containing Rad-Missiles, instead of a twin-linked Lascannon and standard missiles. Though rare, these armored warriors are worth their weight in gold on the front lines.

The most frightening of all are the Contemptor Phlegthos. Though exceptionally rare, each Phlegthos Contemptor carries an Assault Cannon in each arm, made far more frightening by the large Phosphex rounds at the tip of every bullet. These warriors are unleashed only when all other options have failed the Legion, and the time has come to simply hose the enemy in Phosphex. Spiraling green flickers of smoke emerge from the barrels, and brilliant green-white flashes of Phosphex herald the death of virtually anything. Even vehicles are not safe from a sustained barrage of Phosphex rounds.

In the 40th Millennium, these Dreadnoughts are almost exclusively confined to anti-Necron duties in the Galactic Core, though from time to time a Captain in dire straits may request the Chapter detach one for his campaigns.

Starhammer Marines:

Because the War Scribes' fleet is so large, they can almost always count on having orbital support, if not orbital superiority. To exploit that asset, a specialist rank developed over time to help coordinate fire from the void.

Known as Starhammers, these Marines undergo extensive and painful surgery to implant all manner of cogitators, relays, and neurolinkages akin to those used by the Princeps of a Titan, so that they may interface directly with a voidship's weapons arrays and personally guide the bombardment as a single unit. These warriors sacrifice their individuality so that the vessel they inhabit may split its attention between naval combat and ground support, and precisely direct its fire under the most trying circumstances. Even when the ship is fighting against other vessels, these Starhammers act as coordinators for the Thunderhawk squadrons, managing them with fine detail for maximum efficiency.

These Marines can never leave the ships they are bound to, for the surgeries required rob them of the ability for independent action. Only when wired into a Thunderhawk's cockpit as its pilot may they again enjoy some of the freedom granted to other Astartes. To be a Starhammer is a thankless task, but it is a common choice for disgraced War Scribes to make as a form of final atonement for their failures.

Maestro Ferrorum, Lord of Armor:

The Maestro Ferrorum is a dangerous individual indeed, being the commander of an entire regiment of the War Scribes' armored vehicles. This Marine is responsible for coordinating the fire of sometimes twenty or more mighty behemoths, directing their overwhelming fire into the appropriate locations. It falls to the Maestro Ferrorum to find the path through an urban maze, the shallow points of a swampy bog, and the thinnest parts of a dense forest, so that the tanks may approach unhindered. The Maestro is also in charge of ensuring that his regiment is properly supplied on even the longest campaigns, and so by necessity is an expert scavenger and scrounger, in addition to being a master pathfinder and trailblazer.

Invariably, the Maestro Ferrorum personally commands a Fellblade of some variety, equipped with the best communications gear the War Scribes have available. When the Maestro is too injured to fight on his own, he is interred within this same vehicle in the manner of a Dreadnought Sarcophagus, and from the moment he takes command of the Fellblade until his final death, it is said that a Maestro never leaves his armored charger.

Even the best Dreadnought may be slain relatively easily, but the sheer power of a Fellblade means that the oldest Marines in the War Scribes Chapter are almost all Maestros from ancient eras, preserved as the biological component of the tank's Machine Spirit.

Teknophanim Marines:

Traditionally, a Breacher Siege Squad is used for boarding enemy voidships, hurling themselves into the thick of combat where the foe is fiercest and trusting in armor to see them through. The War Scribes practice a slower, more deliberate style of warfare, and so have also adapted the Breacher Squads into other areas of their ranks. While not every Squad counts Teknophanim among their number, most Companies have at least a few attached to the Captain's personal detail if nothing else, and some even have an entire squad of such Marines.

A Teknophanim is distinguished on the battlefield by the traditional Conversion Beamer, and their heavy, extra-large Combat Shield, enhanced with force field technology. As the War Scribes advance, the Teknophanim press forward under the cover of their tower shields, and once they have reached an appropriate position, unlimber the powerful Conversion Beamers and lock them into special grooves in the Shield. Though immobile while deployed and incapable of firing on the move, they can provide disproportionately heavy firepower to cover the advance of their brethren, and are extremely difficult to dislodge. To destroy a deployed phalanx of Teknophanim is an extraordinarily difficult task, for when their Power Shields link the force field energy, almost nothing can penetrate it.

To be a Teknophanim requires courage well above and beyond a normal Marine, and as such it is the only role in the War Scribes that must be voluntarily assumed, by ancient War Scribes tradition. Many ambitious young Marines take up the shield and Beamer to win honor for themselves, but more often than not, their impetuousness leads to the durable equipment being retrieved with unrecognizable lumps of meat inside where once a warrior stood. Teknophanim are rare sights on the battlefield because of the high mortality rate of their task, but those that survive and thrive in the role are Marines indeed, and almost all who make it even a full year as a Teknophanim go on to become high-ranking warriors.

Legion Equipment

Their favored weapons are Dark Age relics, though there are precious few that survived the chaos and destruction of the Isstvan Massacre and the destruction of their homeworld, Whitestone. Most of what remains from the Dark Age is noncombat gear, primarily advanced manufactorums and data storage facilities, which the War Scribes and their successors draw on to maintain their advanced equipment.

The War Scribes Legion roamed far and wide, recovering many of the Great Crusade's most notable blueprints and STC fragments, unlocking their secrets and sharing them with the other Legions. The Emperor encouraged this, seeing it as a way to ensure that His sons had a supply of material outside of the Mechanicus' control. Though minor, this trickle of equipment gave many Legions a crucial advantage in their wars, even as it laid the seeds of resentment that would later cause the death of the War Scribes' Primarch.

The War Scribes Legion is replete with these devices compared to almost any other Imperial force. In their arsenals are large quantities of Jetbikes, Fellblades, Rapiers, Cerberus Tank Destroyers, Contemptors, Javelins, Sicaran Tanks, Typhon Siege Tanks, and Deimos-Pattern vehicles. Where other Space Marines might have lost such patterns of equipment, the War Scribes are expert record-keepers, and their warfleet has critical data well dispersed and backed up, so that even great loss may be recovered from.

The War Scribes are able to equip their ranks with Volkite weaponry, a legacy of having acquired the necessary blueprints for such weapons and their factories early in the Great Crusade. Additionally, the War Scribes field Destroyer Marine squads, armed with nuclear, biological, and chemical weaponry from the Age of Strife, since by and large, the enemies they face deserve nothing better, and sometimes cannot be killed without these terrifying weapons. The Galactic Core is a dangerous place, and the Imperium loses nothing by irradiating already irradiated worlds, if it kills xenos in the process.

Even in the 40th Millennium, the Chapter and its successors will have access to much that the rest of the galaxy has forgotten, and their armies will look much as they did in the Great Crusade, an army from a more enlightened time.

The Memoriam

"This shall be my final work, my final gift to the Legion I could not protect. But most of all, an apology to the warriors I misused, who suffered because of my quest to rekindle a dead flame. I was not up to the task I set myself, and because of that our homeworld is doomed, and perhaps our Legion with it. These suits of armor will be the last shards of my love for you all, and they will never fail you as I have. Even when I am gone, I shall protect you. Live on, and live well. Become better men than I."

Early in the history of the War Scribes, Primarch Arelex was taken by a strange, fickle mood while on a long Warp journey. He wandered about the flagship until he arrived at the armory, where he took a suit of Terminator Armor and began to tinker with it. Over time, the Primarch embedded numerous failsafes, backup protocols, multilayered force fields and advanced technologies, until it barely resembled the original suit. Though a wonderfully fortified example of the smith's craft, its true genius was the incorporation of small Dark Age relics recovered from Whitestone itself, part of a self-repair mechanism for mining machinery in the deepest and most treacherous caverns. Even if the armor was torn asunder, shattered into ten thousand pieces, so long as one remained, it could rebuild the whole suit, given time and resources.

This priceless artifact was stored away, perhaps never to be seen again. Arelex was a Primarch who followed his intuition, something of a fickle person who at times moved without real purpose, to the chagrin of his fellow Primarchs. This sort of thing was common in Warp transit, away from the wonderfully intricate problems of war and logistics, giving his mind little to do. For most of the Great Crusade, this wondrous device slumbered.

Only in the final weeks of the War Scribes' existence as a Legion was the armor retrieved from the deep vaults, when it became clear that the Mechanicus battlefleet was coming to destroy the War Scribes. It is said that Arelex somehow knew of his approaching destiny, and with a strange air of calm, he proceeded to forge nine more such armors, replicating the original in exacting detail and using up the last of the self-repair artifacts.

Ten suits of wondrous Terminator armor he built, offering unparalleled protection to the warrior inside. For most of the battle for Whitestone, these ten suits of armor, worn by the greatest champions the War Scribes had to offer, fought alongside Arelex to defend their world. Seeing that the battle was lost, Arelex ordered his Legion to leave the planet, signing the Orannis Accord with the Mechanicus in his own blood, and the ten armors went with his men.

From that day to the current era, the armors have been designated the Memoriam, and one is given to each of the Captains of the War Scribes Chapter, including the Chapter Master. It is these ten men that are charged with remembering the locations and passwords to the War Scribes vaults, repositories, and naval command, guarding the essence of the Chapter eternally.

In times of greatest need, the Memoriam is assembled around the Chapter Master, and as a single unit they bring destruction to the fiercest foes. In this way, the Chapter carries with them the memory of their Primarch in a very real, visceral way.

War Scribes Legion Naval Arm

Legion Navy Overview

The War Scribes Navy is the largest of all the Legion navies, blessed with a Primarch who recognized the utility of orbital firepower and the necessity of building an infrastructure base for his Legion. Fueled by the raw materials mined from the Atalantos Worlds and the processing facilities of its Forge Worlds and Narhadul, the Legion Shipyard, the War Scribes have built their forces to roughly 1500 vessels. The Scribes prefer larger ships like Strike Cruisers and Battleships whenever possible, as these ships are hard to totally destroy, and can be repaired at Narhadul. Lesser vessels are too easy for the Necrons to rip apart, and are not preferred or much respected.

Salvage is also important to Arelex's strategies, and recovering Imperial vessels is given high priority. Those who sail under the War Scribes' banner know that their Legion will go to great lengths to ensure their crippled ships are brought home safely. Many of the War Scribes' escort vessels are salvage ships, tugs, and shipbreakers, converted from damaged destroyers and similar ships.

The War Scribes' fleet is split between Battleships, Cruisers and Escorts along roughly 10:30:60 ratios, in contrast to the 7:23:70 ratios more common to other Legion fleets. While the bulk of the numbers are still Destroyers and other Escorts, the Scribes have a greater proportional tonnage at the high end than most.

Battleships: Approx. 150 vessels. Cruisers/Grand Cruisers: Approx. 450 vessels. Light Cruisers/Destroyers/Escorts: Approx. 900 vessels.

Notable Vessels of the Legion

Sol Invictus, Fortress-Monastery of the War Scribes

Sol Invictus

Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Varies
Population	1,000,000 Chapter Serfs and Support Staff, Several Companies of War Scribes
Planetary Governor	Chapter Master

The Sol Invictus is the greatest treasure of the War Scribes, the supreme monument to their merit as a Legion. Primarch Arelex himself wrested the immense vessel from a close orbit around the Galaxy's central black hole, a struggle lasting the better part of a year. The Sol Invictus was awash with radiation and gravitic tides, and only the Primarch's unconquerable desire to see this Dark Age relic restored to Humanity's service allowed Arelex to survive the hellish descent towards the singularity. Even when the behemoth vessel was removed from the gravitic tidal zone and all its deadly energy, the War Scribes could not even approach the vessel to assist their Primarch for three more years, so intense was the lingering radiation. For those three years, Arelex dwelled on the Sol Invictus alone, every day being injured and burned, every day healing himself back together with his Primarch's vigor and the ship's medical bay. Eventually, the fires of the Core cooled, and the War Scribes Legion took their first steps into a true technological marvel.

Upon being presented with the vessel as a trophy of war, the Emperor was so impressed with Arelex's determination to capture the behemoth fortress that he gifted the ship to the War Scribes to be their Monastery forevermore, the orbital counterpart to the Basilikon Atalantos. The Scribes would have a permanent residence within the Atalantos Worlds in order to eternally defend the Imperium against Necron threats from the Core, but the Sol Invictus would carry the Legion to the farthest corners of the Galaxy to enact the Emperor's justice whenever required.

In the glory years of the Great Crusade, the Sol Invictus was seen far and wide, leading many of the Crusade's thrusts into unknown stars, serving as an enormous safe haven for the fleets to rearm, refuel, and repair. In the waning years of the 40th Millennium, the Sol Invictus rarely leaves the Atalantos Cluster because the Necron threat has reached such a fever pitch, but when it does, for the briefest of moments the galaxy is reminded of the ancient strength of the Imperium and Humanity.

Equipment: The Sol Invictus is almost as large as Triton, Neptune's largest moon, though it lacks the internal volume of a spherical body. Endless reserves of material are stored within, everything needed to subjugate a planetary system and then prepare it for Imperial colonization. Though backups of all the War Scribes' carefully gathered knowledge are scattered in secret locations across the Atalantos Cluster and worlds beyond, the Sol Invictus houses a central repository where all is gathered in one place. Everything the War Scribes have ever learned is here, at the Primarch's, and later the Chapter Master's disposal.

The Sol Invictus contains row upon row of archaeotech foundries, some are original to the vessel and some were installed by the Primarch in later years. Though they are ever more resource-hungry with each passing year, these facilities are capable of keeping the War Scribes high-tech armies in fine condition and resupply, as well as the majority of their Successors.

Everything else one could want in a Monastery or a space station is present here as well. Conference rooms, training halls, barracks, medical facilities, communications arrays, laboratoriums, sensor equipment, rank upon rank of nested void shields, power cores capable of nearly limitless vigor, mighty engines and titanic Warp Drives, and every type of ship-based weapon one could imagine. The Sol Invictus is a world unto itself.

The primary armaments are a trio of colossal energy projectors at the vessel's prow. Two are smaller devices, useful for punching holes in enemy capital ships and more rapidly rechargeable for combat situations. The central energy projector, much larger than the other two combined, is used primarily for planetary subjugation and destruction. While not capable of outright destroying a planet, the main cannon is more than capable of scorching a continent with a single burst.

For the direst of circumstances, a Chapter Master is one of the few individuals authorized to perform Exterminatus. The Sol Invictus produces and stores two-stage Cyclonic Torpedoes for the War Scribes' use, generally against Necron Tomb worlds at the Galactic Core. These worlds contain no life upon them, so the Cyclonic weapons carry little risk of collateral damage, and the Scribes are not shy about their use. More than one Dynasty hiding in the Core's glare has been snuffed out thanks to the timely intervention of the Scribes, but dozens, if not hundreds, still remain. And some have awakened.

Ascent of Man, Gloriana Class Battleship, Flagship of the War Scribes

The Ascent of Man was the flagship of the War Scribes for many years, and served the Legion faithfully. It is regrettable that the retreat from the Isstvan Massacre resulted in the death of the mighty warship, but it was the sacrifice of her and all who served upon her that allowed the remnants of the Legion and their Primarch to escape with their lives. Without that surviving reserve of veteran troops, the War Scribes surely would have been wiped from existence.

The Ascent of Man is designed as a command vessel first and foremost, and its place is not at the head of the battle lines, but in the middle of the fleet. From this central position, its main cannon can reach out and pierce the enemy's heaviest armor, and its endless ranks of Thunderhawks can swarm in all directions to reinforce any weakened part of the War Scribes fleet. Should the enemy overcome even these defenses, the Ascent of Man bristles with exceptionally dense, though short ranged ranks of weapons batteries, both lances and macrocannons. Any foe thinking the War Scribes' flagship cannot defend itself from close assault is foolish indeed.

After the Ascent of Man was destroyed, the Battle Barge "Final Verdict" stepped in to take its place at the head of the War Scribes' fleet.

TYPE/HITS	SPEED	TURNS	SHIELDS	ARMOUR	TURRETS
Battleship/14	20cm	45°	4	6+	4
ARMAMENT	RANGE	FIREPOWER/STRENGTH			FIRE ARC
Port Macrocannons	30cm	10			Left
Starboard Macrocannons	30cm	10			Right
Dorsal Lance Batteries	30cm	10			Left/Front/Right
Port Launch Bay	Thunderhawks:20cm	8			N/A
Starboard Launch Bay	Thunderhawks:20cm	8			N/A
Prow Armageddon Gun	Range: Extreme	1			Front

Notes: Cost: 810 Points. The Ascent of Man has a War Scribes crew and an Honour Guard included in its points cost. You must assign the Fleet Commander to it.

Final Verdict, Battle Barge of the War Scribes

This mighty Battle Barge carried the Chapter's most veteran troops into battle, and was responsible for the deaths of many worlds during the Core Conquests and the Heresy. The blood of uncounted billions of xenos is on this ship's records of honor, and at least as many heretics and traitors. Currently, the "Final Verdict" serves as the War Scribes Chapter's flagship, when not operating from the Sol Invictus.

The ancient vessel is well stocked for war, carrying enough armaments and vehicles of destruction to keep the entire Chapter in the field if need be. Most of its armaments are standard Battle Barge fare, though of higher quality because of its age. The War Scribes have modified the Barge by removing the massed banks of boarding torpedoes in the prow and replacing them with an enormous Mars-Pattern Nova Cannon, for use against Necron vessels which are difficult to damage with lesser guns, and pointless to board with Marines.

Legion Capital Ships

It is well known that the War Scribes, thanks to the profligacy of resources in the Galactic Core and their Primarch's administrative skills, had the facilities readily available for ship building. These shipyards were never idle throughout the Great Crusade, and by its end enabled the War Scribes to be almost fully self-sufficient, replacing combat losses without need of any other power. This greatly eased the resource burden their Legion placed on the Imperium's supplies, and allowed the Emperor to dedicate more resources to Legions in greater need. When the Heresy occurred, the War Scribes counted nearly 1500 vessels of all kinds in their naval arm, the largest Legion navy of all. They counted more Battle Barges and Battleships in their ranks than many other Legions.

After the Heresy, though many ships were lost at Isstvan and in other conflicts, the War Scribes' fleet became the backbone of Battlefleet Atalantos, defending the Core against Necron and other threats. Many of the vessels went to their Successor Chapters, and quite a few even wound up much farther afield, across the Ultima Segmentum. And though the shipyards of Narhadul took great damage during the Burning Crusade, they were repaired and are now one of the primary naval yards for the entire Segmentum.

Sol Invictus (Unknown Dark Age Class)

Battleships:

Ascent of Man (Gloriana Class)

Lord of Storms (Apocalypse Class)

Force of Arms (Apocalypse Class)

Justified Avarice (Apocalypse Class)

Reclamator (Emperor Class)

Firewind (Oberon Class)

Infinitas Rex (Retribution Class)

Imperion Volant (Retribution Class)

Spiritus Excoriat (Nemesis Class)

Incendio Xenologica (Nemesis Class)

Battle Barges:

Final Verdict (Legatus Class)

White Death

Farthest Star

Sundown

Pathfinder

Trailblazer

Repentance

Arelex's Pride

Legion's Hope

Shield of Atalantos

Emperor's Justice

Immolatios Heretico

Creed Bearer

Dawn Hunter

Void Predator

Strike Cruisers:

The War Scribes Legion maintained a force of Strike Cruisers several hundred strong, using them as much to escort the Battleships and Battle Barges as planetary assault vehicles in their own right.

Escort Vessels:

The Legion used very few Escort Vessels as part of their actual fleets. Those that were built were largely deployed to secure recently conquered systems after the Legion had gone. Standard procedure was to be constructing Escort Vessels continually on the march, leaving one or two behind after every conquest. Though this slowed the pace of the War Scribes, it greatly heartened the colonists and warriors left to bring the conquered worlds into the Imperium.

Legion Doctrine

Because of the Scribes love for knowledge, predictability, and the written word, the War Scribes were encouraged by the other legions and their Primarchs to author the Codex Astartes following the events of the Heresy, with the help of the Crusaders, Steel Marshals, Thunder Kings, and Scions.

They disagree with the Mechanicus in many areas, not least of which is their refusal to hoard technology. The War Scribes do not innovate technology, but they do reverse-engineer it at every opportunity, and disseminate the information to the worlds they conquer, and to the Imperium as a whole when possible. In the Great Crusade, their actions were responsible for much technology of war entering the hands of other Legions.

Unfortunately, after the Heresy, the Mechanicus forced the War Scribes to do no more than gather technology, and there is bad blood between them. Though the rest of the Imperium is ignorant of what happened on Whitestone, the armies of the Mechanicus nearly destroyed the entire Legion, and only Arelex's voluntary surrender and execution prevented the War Scribes from breaking with the Imperium altogether.

The blood of their Primarch purchased a treaty that holds even to this day, stating that the War Scribes and their Successors may possess whatever technology they have recovered, past, present, or future, and they may use the Atalantos Worlds near the Galactic Core as a manufacturing base to maintain their supplies, but the descendants of Arelex may never attempt to share what they know or learn without the Mechanicus' explicit permission.

Indeed, though the War Scribes still resent this treaty, they respected their Primarch's sacrifice so much that when a Successor, the Iron Scribes, broke the treaty, the War Scribes destroyed their own Successor rather than dishonor Arelex's sacrifice.

Space Marines know no fear, but the War Scribes don’t handle Chaos incursions very well, mentally or tactically. They can’t predict the unpredictable, and this puts them at a steep disadvantage. Against Material foes though, their brutally powerful weaponry makes them a force to be reckoned with. The War Scribes also prefer to engage the enemy at range, rather than up close and personal. They seek efficiency in battle, and spare little thought for personal glory and honor. Though not incapable of using a chainsword or power blade, the Scribes are almost always at a disadvantage in close quarters.

Notable successors

The Isstvan Massacre nearly destroyed the entire Legion, and they were completely unprepared for their betrayal at the hands of the Traitor Legions. Despite being a respectably large Legion of nearly 90,000 warriors, only one in thirty Marines survived Isstvan, leaving a bare 3,000 to carry their Primarch back home. The only reason the Legion remains a viable force to this day is the multitude of small squads dispatched galaxy-wide to hunt relics, these numbered almost 10,000 and were called back to brace the Legion. Without those emergency reinforcements, the War Scribes would surely have been annihilated when the Mechanicus attempted to sear their homeworld to the bedrock in an attempt to remove the War Scribes' Primarch from impeding their goals to control the Imperium from Mars, rather than Terra.

As it now stands, the War Scribes are a fleet-based chapter, operating within the loose confederation of worlds known as the Atalantos Worlds, for though the Legion survived, their planet was torn asunder in the apocalyptic clash of forbidden, ancient technology. For the briefest of instants, they and the Mechanicus fought as Dark Age Mankind might have, holding nothing back. The War Scribes Chapter of the 40th Millennium looks much like it did in the 30th, wielding Crusade-era weaponry alongside small handfuls of even more ancient relics. They defend their treasures jealously, still remembering their defeat at the hands of the Mechanicus.

Knights Draconian

The first Chapter Master of the Knights Draconian, Nicholai Galilei, served as liaison officer to The Entombed during the Istvaan V campaign. While recovering from the wounds he suffered there, Galilei criticized the War Scribes' strategy for failing to properly co-operate with the other legions present. While the critique was not harshly worded, it created considerable controversy - especially because Arelex Orannis, busy with other duties, did not publicly reply. Internal dissent within the War Scribes made the break-up of the legion for the Second Founding painless: those who agreed with Galilei left, those who disagreed remained in their original colours. Subsequent bust-ups with The Entombed and the Eyes of the Emperor left an embittered Knights Draconian believing that co-operation is largely impossible. Big fans of the Inquisition.

Brothers Itinerant

Brothers Itinerant

Founding	Splintered after Dropsite Massacre
Successors of	War Scribes
Primarch	Arelex Orannis
Strength	unknown
Specialty	Piracy
Allegiance	Renegade

Pirates, Cowards and Traitors. The first Master of Brothers, Neheziah Bo'ash, had been a middling officer of the War Scribes legion. His accomplishments hardly worth mentioning until his first commission to the command of an escort squadron. The man's prowess in ship-based combat became well noted over years leading up to the Isstvan Massacre. It was the beginnings of the massacre that truly forged the brotherhood. Their fleet had come under attack and in the confusion Neheziah ordered the squadron to retaliate against any ship that fired upon them. Having heard reports of massacre on the planet the fateful command of Neheziah came through to the other ships of the squadron. They were to quit the field until they could ascertain the best course of action and regroup with their legion. In the aftermath of istvaan when the squadron made their way to link up with the rest of their legion, they were fired upon. As it was assumed they were in league with the traitors or worse they were cowards.

Through out the duration of the heresy the brothers raided loyalists and traitors alike, looting for supplies and materials for their ships. Any legionnaire unfortunate enough to have survived their attack and refused their offer to join the brotherhood were press-ganged into service. Those who were more easily swayed to join the brotherhood would paint white their face plates and gauntlets It is to represent their mockery of honour and loyalty; having been betrayed twice over. The lenses of their helmets are either replaced or dulled into a dark black to represent their merciless or soulless nature. Over the years since the heresy the brotherhood has acclimated to a number of sorcerers or seers captured from their raids, who are sought after for their ability to fate their raids with success. Should however their fates be wrong one can only imagine the vicious repayment that would be visited upon them.

Other War Scribes Successors

Iron Scribes

Little is known of this Chapter, only that they chose to break the Orannis Accord and share technology without the consent of the Mechanicus. The War Scribes annihilated the entire Chapter, rather than give the Mechanicus an excuse to attack *all* of Arelex's descendants.

Sons of Whitestone

Responsible for defending the Atalantos Worlds against the Necron threat. Generally fights the Ulkhesh Dynasty.

Sons of Atalantos

Responsible for defending the Atalantos Worlds against the Necron threat. Generally fights the Zelrakh-Khemta Dynasty.

Sons of Orannis

Responsible for defending the Atalantos Worlds against the Necron threat. Generally fights the Il'Kholas Dynasty.

Lore Bearers

Known for their tendency to engrave their armor and weaponry with words of antiquity, everything from old poetry, to technical blueprints, to mathematical equations. Notable for having extremely good memories.

Shrouded Host

One of the few War Scribes Successors that is not stationed in or near the Core, the Shrouded Host is said to have uncovered some tidbot of data in the Primarch's records that says they will be needed in the fight against Chaos. Accordingly, they are fleet-based, in the space near the Eye of Terror, and maintain little contact with their parent Chapter.

Sky Renders

Notable for their use of Teleport Homers in conjunction with Drop Pods.

Because the Necron threat is so dangerous, and the planets near the Core so inhospitable to Scouts not wearing Power Armor, the Sky Renders have found the traditional deployment of homing beacons via infiltrating Scout Marines almost useless. Though many of the sons of Orannis have adopted this tactic, the Sky Renders are best known for it, using massed Drop Pod barrages to conceal a handful of Pods containing beacons.

The Pods land and the Marines deploy as normal, forming a beachhead, and they are rapidly followed by a massed teleport of Terminators to reinforce the assault point. They also make *extensive* use of Deathstorm Drop Pods containing Whirlwind Launchers and Assault Cannons rather than troops to provide additional weight of fire.

Venom Quills

A 26th Founding Successor of the War Scribes, the Venom Quills fight xenos threats on the Galactic Fringe, and despite their relative youth are quite well traveled. This Chapter favors the use of toxic weapons to rapidly subdue threats, and they keep a reserve of deadly poisons on hand at all times for any occasion or task. When they encounter and destroy a new species of xenos, the Chapter's Apothecaries take great pleasure in rending them down for useful components, sending most to the Genetors or the Inquisition, but keeping any novel toxins for themselves.

Currently they are very busy assisting in defense against the Tyranids. Their toxins are proving useful for now because of their sheer variety, but the Tyranids in their area are rapidly evolving countermeasures. Soon, the Venom Quills will have to come up with a new strategy, or perish.

Lightbringers

Known for using laser weapons almost exclusively, renowned for relentless campaigns and resistance to attrition. Masters of foraging and using weapons that require little ammunition or repair.

Rekindlers

RECORDS SEALED BY INQUISITORIAL ORDER EPSILON-SEC-TWELVE. CEASE ALL ATTEMPTS AT INQUIRY.

Arelex Orannis, Primarch of The War Scribes

Main article: Arelex_Orannis

The Atalantos Worlds

Main article: The Atalantos Worlds

The Atalantos Worlds are Primarch Arelex's crowning achievement. Though progress was slow and the lives lost were many, no other Primarch managed to push the Imperium's boundaries closer to the Galaxy's Core. The Atalantos Worlds span several dozen major worlds, and countless mining colonies, from which the Galactic Core's resources are plundered with abandon, and shipped outwards to fuel Imperial industry across the Ultima Segmentum.

Necrons are here in great number, and other xenos as well, and the hazards of radiation and stellar cataclysms are always a deadly risk. Nevertheless, the lure of treasure draws in prospectors and explorers from across the Imperium, and there is never a shortage of slaves and convicts to labor in the crushing pressures and hellish temperatures inside the mines.

Because of the Atalantos Worlds' productivity, and Arelex's gift for management and logistics, the War Scribes were able to sustain the largest fleet of any Astartes Legion, and though the Legion was never the most numerous, their influence was felt across the Imperium, heralded by the sound of macrocannons pounding planets and the silent lash of lances spearing across the void.

The Space Marine Legions of the /tg/ Heresy
Loyalist:	The Entombed - Eyes of the Emperor - Scale Bearers - Silver Cataphracts Steel Marshals - Stone Men - Thunder Kings - Void Angels - War Scribes
Traitor:	Black Augurs - The Justiciars - Eternal Zealots - Heralds of Hektor Iron Rangers - Life Bringers - Lions Rampant - Mastodontii - Sons of Fire

War Scribes