In the turbulent era of the Horus Heresy, the XXXX force stood apart from the rest, driven by a unique perspective and a distinct set of beliefs. Hailing mostly from Terra, the warriors had never shared the profound connection to Caliban that the rest of their brethren did.
Its members were predominantly those of the Dreadwing, the enigmatic and feared order within the Legion, and they were bound by a sinister purpose – the Eskaton Imperative. This secretive mission compelled them to engage in operations that most in the Imperium dared not contemplate. Their long history of brutal and calculated warfare gave them a reputation as cunning and ruthless strategists.
Throughout the Heresy, these Dark Angels remained loyal to the Emperor's cause, but their methods became increasingly extreme as they pursued their objective to annihilate worlds that had fallen to the traitor forces. As the Heresy wore on they saw how easily humanity was corrupted by heresy and the need to uphold the Imperial Creed by all means necessary. Their obsession with destruction grew, and they developed a taste for it, becoming more relentless and brutal with each engagement.
As the Heresy raged on, the XXXXX relished in the cleansing carnage, becoming masters of annihilating their enemies and laying waste to entire worlds. The simplicity of conventional engagements bored them, pushing them to seek ever more destructive methods to carry out their brutal work.
This unique blend of unshakable loyalty to the Emperor and a penchant for extreme violence set these Dark Angels apart from the rest of their Legion, making them a formidable and feared force during the Heresy, but also raising eyebrows among their fellow Space Marines. Their deeds in the name of the Emperor remain etched in the annals of the Horus Heresy as a testament to their unwavering commitment to the Imperium, even if they took that commitment to a dark and terrifying extreme.
Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss's meteoric rise within the Dark Angels Legion was not without its cost. The extensive use of rad-based weaponry and his frequent deployment on poisoned battlefields had taken a toll on his health. Over the years, exposure to the lethal radiation of the weapons he so willingly employed had begun to manifest in insidious ways. His once-imposing physique had gradually withered, and he bore the scars of radiation burns and sickness.
The chronic effects of his long-term illness were undeniable. His once raven-black hair had turned brittle and grey, and his skin bore the telltale signs of radiation damage. Yet, despite the physical toll, Kazrai Cadmoss remained resolute and steadfast, driven by an unwavering determination to carry out his duties as a leader in the Dreadwing. And once clad in his battle-plate, he stood tall and stoic.
He had been advised by the Legion's Apothecaries to step back, to allow his body to heal and recuperate, but Kazrai Cadmoss refused. The urgency of the Heresy and his unwavering belief in the need for extreme measures kept him on the front lines. The pain was a constant companion, but he would not yield to weakness.
For General Kazrai Cadmoss, given the Honorific Eskaton following the Exterminatus of several worlds within the Osiryne Cluster, the cost of his long-term illness was a heavy burden to bear, a reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of victory. He knew that his days were numbered, and yet, with each deployment, he embraced the darkness of the battlefield, fueled by the belief that only through unwavering resolve could the Imperium be saved from the impending darkness of Horus and his traitorous forces.
His journey, however, had roots in the ancient traditions of the Order of Shattered Crowns, one of the oldest orders within the 1st Legion. As a Gamarye born initiate into the Legion, his upbringing held many ancient Terran Traditions. Harking back to the Unification Wars on ancient Terra, The Shattered Crowns practised a number of secret duelling arts, once commonplace in Terra's forgotten duelling cults, but now all but vanished. Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss had inherited these time-honoured traditions, his mastery of secret duelling arts cultivated in the forgotten duelling cults of Terra.
Most importantly, his connection to the Shattered Crowns intertwined with his role in the Deathwing of the Hexagarmmaton. These affiliations complemented the order's teachings seamlessly. Whispers even hinted that Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss stood within the Inner Circle of the Dreadwing, a testament to the depth of his commitment and the shadows he traversed to safeguard the Imperium.
Amid the remnants of a war council in a secluded chamber, Apothecary Corwin approached Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss, his expression etched with concern. The air was still heavy with the weight of the impending battle against the Emperor's Children, and the room held a tension only known to warriors on the eve of war.
As the other officers filed out of the chamber, Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss remained seated at the table, his gaunt visage illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby lumiglobe. Corwin pulled a chair closer and leaned in, his voice low and measured. "Eskaton, I must speak with you in private."
Kazrai Cadmoss nodded, his eyes locking onto Corwin's. "What is it, Apothecary?"
With a deep breath, Corwin began, "I have watched you, Eskaton, and the toll this war has taken on your health is undeniable. The radiation sickness, the poisoning from the battlefields – they've left their mark, and your condition has worsened. You are in no condition to lead in this state."
The Eskaton's jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists on the table. "Apothecary, the fate of this campaign is at a precipice. We cannot afford to falter now. I must lead our forces into battle."
Corwin pressed on, his voice laced with urgency. "I understand the urgency, Eskaton, but your participation could not only jeopardise your own life but the success of the mission. We have capable commanders who can lead in your stead."
Kazrai Cadmoss's gaze remained fixed on Corwin, his eyes holding the same unwavering resolve that had carried him through countless battles. "Apothecary, I know the risks. I've seen the darkest horrors of this war, and I've made decisions that haunt my every moment. But if I am to be remembered for anything, let it be for my unwavering dedication to the Imperium."
Corwin paused for a moment, torn between his duty as a healer and the understanding that, for some, the call of duty transcended personal well-being. "Eskaton, you have my utmost respect, but I implore you to consider the long-term consequences. Your presence on the battlefield might rally the troops, but it could also be their undoing."
Kazrai Cadmoss's eyes turned back to the lumiglobe's glow, his hands trembling with a mixture of sickness and determination. "Apothecary, tomorrow we march into the crucible of war once more. My fate is of little consequence in the grand scheme of the Heresy. Victory is what matters, and I will not let the darkness of Horus prevail."
Corwin sighed, his shoulders slumping as he recognized the unyielding determination in the Eskaton's words. Tomorrow, they would face a struggle that could forever alter the course of the Horus Heresy, and the consequences of their choices loomed heavy over them both.
Tamiel Vasseel, the Warmonger Consul of the Firewing, was a figure shrouded in enigma within the ranks of the Dark Angels. As a member of The First 500, he held a unique role within the Legion, tasked with observing and safeguarding critical information, even when that meant keeping secrets from his own battle-brothers.
Tamiel's strengths lay in his unwavering loyalty and commitment to the Dark Angels. He was a formidable warrior, his Cataphractii Terminator armour a symbol of his unyielding dedication to the Legion. His prowess in battle was matched only by his ability to lead, and he had earned the respect and trust of his comrades through years of unswerving service.
However, Tamiel's flaw lay in his overzealous devotion to the Legion's secrets. He had become consumed by the burden of his role within The First 500, often placing the protection of information above all else, even the bonds of brotherhood. His unyielding loyalty could sometimes blind him to the moral complexities of their actions.
Tamiel's relationship with General Cadmoss was one of both camaraderie and tension. They had fought side by side in countless battles, sharing a mutual respect born of their shared dedication to the Legion's cause. Tamiel admired the general's resolve and was among those who had supported his unyielding pursuit of victory. However, the general's willingness to cross ethical boundaries, especially during their campaign alongside the Blood Angels, had left Tamiel deeply conflicted. Their differing views often led to heated debates within the ranks, but despite their disagreements, Tamiel's loyalty to the general remained unshaken.
As a Warmonger Consul, Tamiel Vasseel was a warrior haunted by the shadows of his Legion's past and the secrets he was bound to protect. His journey was one of unyielding dedication to the Dark Angels and the solemn responsibility of guarding their hidden truths, even when it meant sacrificing his own moral clarity and testing the limits of his loyalty to his comrades and superiors.
Tamiel Vasseel's role within The First 500 was deeply entwined with the Legion's most closely guarded secrets, a responsibility he bore with solemn determination. The Dark Angels had always been a Legion cloaked in mystery, and their Primarch, Lion El'Jonson, had entrusted The First 500 with the critical task of gathering, preserving, and safeguarding these enigmatic truths. Among the myriad secrets of the Dark Angels, the Nullificator Squad held a unique place.
The Nullificators were tasked with the identification and neutralisation of psychic threats, uncovering hidden traitors within the ranks of the Legion, and combating the heretical powers of the warp. They were entrusted with knowledge that could shake the foundations of the Imperium if ever revealed, and their work often necessitated extreme measures.
Tamiel had access to knowledge that most of his battle-brothers could not fathom, and this knowledge was both a burden and a source of strength. He knew of the secrets of Caliban's dark past, of the Fallen, and the peril they posed to the Dark Angels' honour. He was privy to the truths that, if exposed, could shake the very foundations of the Legion.
However, this intimate knowledge came with a price. Tamiel's role required him to engage in covert operations, to act as both investigator and executioner when dealing with threats to the Legion's security. He had witnessed the depths of treachery within the Legion, and his understanding of these secrets weighed heavily on his conscience. The knowledge that some of his own brethren had fallen to chaos and betrayed the Emperor's trust was a heavy burden to bear.
The relationship between Tamiel and the Nullificators was one of trust and shared secrets. The squad was a close-knit brotherhood, and their loyalty to each other and to the Legion's cause was unwavering. Tamiel had spent years working alongside them, honing their skills, and ensuring that the most perilous threats to the Dark Angels' hidden truths were neutralised.
Tamiel's life was one of isolation, forever walking the fine line between knowledge and silence. He was a guardian of the Legion's darkest mysteries, and the secrets he held shaped his actions, his beliefs, and his very existence. His duty was an unending struggle to balance the preservation of those secrets with the bonds of brotherhood and the moral complexities of his role within The First 500.
Master Mazraim was marked from a young age by the potent psychic potential that dwelled within him. Hailing from the ancient Terran territories, his upbringing was steeped in the traditions and honor of the Legion, instilling in him a profound sense of duty to the Emperor and his brothers.
From the moment his psychic abilities manifested, Mazraim was recognized as a prodigy within the ranks of the Dark Angels. His mastery of divination powers set him apart, allowing him to peer into the skeins of fate and glean glimpses of the future with uncanny accuracy. His insights proved invaluable to his battle-brothers, guiding them through the fog of war with foresight and precision.
Despite his formidable abilities, Mazraim remained aloof and enigmatic, often withdrawing into the depths of his own thoughts. While some of his brethren viewed him with a mixture of reverence and awe, others found his detached demeanor unsettling, unable to fully comprehend the depths of his powers or the burdens he carried.
In battle, however, Master Mazraim was a force to be reckoned with. His divinatory powers granted him unparalleled insight into the movements of the enemy, allowing him to anticipate their every move with preternatural clarity. With a gesture of his hand and a murmured incantation, he could unravel the enemy's plans before they even took shape, turning the tide of battle in the favor of the Dark Angels.
Yet, for all his power and influence, Master Mazraim remained a figure shrouded in mystery. His true motivations and the extent of his abilities remained a closely guarded secret, known only to a select few within the inner circles of the Legion. To his battle-brothers, he was a enigmatic figure, a guardian of secrets and a harbinger of fate, whose presence on the battlefield was as awe-inspiring as it was unsettling.
As the shadows of the Horus Heresy began to darken the Imperium, Mazraim's perception shifted. With a dawning awareness of the true horrors lurking within the warp and the treachery of those who had once been trusted allies, he recognized the need for a specialized force to combat the insidious influence of the neverborn and enemy psykers.
Drawing upon his formidable psychic abilities and his deep understanding of the warp, Mazraim assembled an elite squad of Nullificators, warriors trained to nullify and counter the psychic powers of their foes. These chosen few, handpicked for their unwavering loyalty and iron wills, stood as a bulwark against the encroaching darkness, their purpose clear: to strike out against the neverborn and enemy psykers wherever they may be found.
Under Mazraim's leadership, the nullificators became a force to be feared, their actions shrouded in secrecy and mystery. Clad in their own customized suits of Cataphractii armor, emblazoned with sigils of warding and anti-psychic runes, they moved silently through the shadows, striking down the enemies of the Imperium with ruthless efficiency.
Master Mazraim's transformation from a solitary seer to the leader of an elite strike force spoke volumes of the shifting tides of the Heresy. No longer content to simply observe the unfolding events from the sidelines, he had embraced his role as a guardian of humanity, willing to confront the darkest manifestations of the warp in order to ensure the survival of the Imperium.
Centurion Cassiar Abdurer, a Paladin of the Reaper of Hosts and member of the esteemed Deathwing of the Dark Angels Legion, emerged from a lineage deeply rooted in the traditions of the Dark Angels. Born on the fortress world of Cadros, he exhibited exceptional combat prowess from an early age, a testament to his unwavering dedication to the Emperor's cause.
Handpicked by only a few members of the Inner Circle for his exceptional skills, Cassiar Abdurer quickly rose through the ranks, earning his place among the Deathwing. His combat style was as dynamic as it was lethal, favoring swift and aggressive engagements over the stoic approach often associated with the Deathwing. His skills were above reproach, yet his methods were at odds with several of the more traditionalsts of the Deathwing. However he had his patrons within the order, allowing him to flourish.
Abdurer's integration into the Deathwing was marked by his proficiency with a jump pack, a rare and dynamic asset that set him apart from his Terminator-clad brethren.
Fighting from the front lines alongside assault marines, Abdurer epitomized the relentless pursuit of the enemies of the Imperium. His jetpack allowed him to swiftly close the gap with the foe, bringing the fight directly to the heart of the enemy formations. His combat style, a fusion of traditional Deathwing lethality and the dynamic assault tactics of jump pack-equipped warriors, earned him a reputation as an unpredictable and formidable force on the battlefield.
His tenure under the command of Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss was relatively brief, having been seconded from other Dark Angels strike forces. This outsider status brought both advantages and challenges. On one hand, Abdurer's diverse experience and fresh perspectives injected a unique vitality into the Dreadwing force of Cadmoss, opening up new avenues of tactical innovation.
While the traditionalists of the Deathwing under Cadmoss' command were skeptical of Abdurer's unorthodox methods, the Eskaton favored the innovative approach of the Paladin. This endorsement from a high-ranking officer brought an added layer of legitimacy to Abdurer's tactics and mitigated some of the resistance within the ranks.
Paladin Cassiar Abdurer's strengths lay in his adaptability and innovative approach to combat. His ability to seamlessly blend the methodologies of different Dark Angels chapters made him a versatile asset on the battlefield. His leadership style was marked by a fierce determination to protect the Imperium, earning him the respect of those who served under his command. Establishing trust and proving the efficacy of his tactics became an ongoing challenge, testing his leadership skills and adaptability in the face of internal skepticism, especially amongst those he didn't directly lead into combat.
SGT: Isolde Tharin
The battlefield was a scarred landscape of smouldering ruins, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air. In the aftermath of a brutal engagement against the forces of Horus, the Dark Angels and Blood Angels had emerged victorious, their alliance holding fast despite the horrors they had faced together. But within the ranks of the victorious, tensions simmered, and a brewing storm threatened to erupt.
Sergeant Heddar of the Interemptor Squad, a hardened warrior from the Dark Angels, stood amidst the debris, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield. Nearby, Brother Sanguinor, a Dawnbringer of the Blood Angels, fumed with quiet anger. He approached Heddar, his voice tinged with accusation.
"Heddar," Brother Sanguinor began, his words low and intense, "I couldn't help but notice your tactics during the battle. It was... extreme, to say the least. We were allies, but your actions bordered on the brink of war crimes."
Heddar turned to face Brother Sanguinor, his armour gleaming darkly in the aftermath of the battle. "Brother, the enemy was entrenched, and we needed to secure victory swiftly. We did what was necessary to eliminate the threat."
The Blood Angel's face contorted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Necessary? What you did was excessive and brutal. We are warriors of the Emperor, not butchers."
The tension between them grew palpable, and for a moment, it seemed that their argument might escalate into violence. But before blows could be exchanged, Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss stepped between them, his presence commanding attention.
"Enough," he said, his voice weary but firm. "The battle is over, and we have prevailed. But the darkness that threatens our Imperium still looms, and we cannot afford division among allies. Blood Angel, I understand your concerns, but we are in the midst of a war for survival, and sometimes extreme measures are necessary. We must put this disagreement behind us."
Brother Sanguinor glanced from Heddar to the Eskaton and finally nodded in reluctant agreement. "Very well. For now, we stand together."
Sergeant Heddar nodded in acknowledgment, a grim determination etched into his features. "We are allies, first and foremost."
The tension between them had not entirely dissipated, but the unity that had seen them through the battle remained intact. As they turned their gaze back to the battered battlefield and the greater war against the traitor legions, they knew that they had to put aside their differences, at least for the time being, to stand united against the looming darkness of the Horus Heresy.
Amidst the smouldering ruins of the battlefield, I stood, my Destroyer armour still dripping with the ichor of our enemies. The acrid stench of scorched earth and the echoes of distant screams filled the air as my battle-brothers and I surveyed the aftermath of our brutal encounter with the Sons of Horus. We had won, but only just.
My weapon, a relic of our Legion's darkest secrets, hung heavy in my grip. The fires of destruction had always been our calling, and today was no different. The once-proud Sons of Horus lay broken, their fortifications shattered and their ranks decimated. But the price had been steep. Our Legion's insatiable hunger for annihilation had nearly consumed us, and the line between victory and madness had blurred.
As I looked around at the faces of my fellow Dark Angels, I could see the weariness in their eyes. The thrill of victory was now tinged with something darker, a hunger for destruction that no longer distinguished friend from foe. We had taken things a little too far once again, leaving our battlefield strewn with the remnants of loyal and traitor alike.
In the distance, a solitary figure from the Sons of Horus lay injured, his life slowly ebbing away. He had been one of our many foes, but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse. We had become monsters, and it weighed heavily on my soul. The Emperor's cause had never seemed so distant, so shrouded in the darkness of our own making.
We had won, but it was a victory that left a bitter taste in our mouths. Our Dark Angels force had become something far removed from the noble knights and protectors of the Imperium we once were. In the grim aftermath of the battle, I knew that we were a legion on the edge, dangerously close to becoming that which we had sworn to destroy. And as I watched the injured Son of Horus take his last breath, I couldn't help but wonder if we had taken things a little too far once more.
Amid the battlefield's tumultuous chaos, the Sabre tank driver clenched the controls, guiding the sleek and deadly war machine over the rugged terrain. The Iron Warriors advanced with grim determination, their iron-clad presence casting an ominous shadow.
Above, the gunner issued concise commands, and the driver expertly manoeuvred the Sabre into an optimal firing position. This crew was a well-honed team, forged in the crucible of countless battles. The Sabre's neutron blaster unleashed a relentless torrent of high-energy particles, tearing through the remnants of the Iron Warriors' fortifications.
The enemy's defences crumbled under the unstoppable onslaught, but retaliatory fire from the Iron Warriors rained down. The Sabre's agility and the driver's deft control allowed them to dodge the incoming ordnance, evading the enemy's fury with practised finesse. Explosions erupted all around, painting the battlefield in fiery turmoil and filling the driver's nostrils with the acrid stench of burning metal.
The outcome of this battle teetered on a knife's edge, and the unyielding resolve of both sides was unmistakable. With each round fired and each enemy vanquished, the Sabre felt like an extension of the driver's very being, an instrument of retribution against the traitors. Amid the relentless firefight, there was no room for doubt or hesitation. They were the tempest on this chaotic battlefield, a force of unwavering determination, committed to achieving victory against the Iron Warriors, regardless of the cost.
But as the battle raged on, a deafening explosion rocked the Sabre, sending it tumbling into the midst of the battlefield's ruin. The war machine that had been their ally, their fortress of destruction, was now engulfed in flames and smoke. The driver's world was thrown into chaos as they fought to escape the dying tank, their body aching and vision blurred.
With the destruction of the Sabre came a heavy sense of loss, but the driver knew that the battle continued. As they crawled from the wreckage, determination burned brighter than ever. The fight against the Iron Warriors was far from over, and the driver would carry the memory of the Sabre's final stand with them into the heart of the conflict, as a testament to the unwavering resolve of the Dark Angels.
In the dimly lit briefing room of the Dark Angels' war encampment, a palpable tension hung in the air. The assembled officers, clad in their dark armour, gathered around a holo-display table, where a holographic representation of the Emperor's Children stronghold flickered to life. They were preparing for an upcoming battle against the corrupted Astartes, a force led by none other than the infamous Slaanesh-worshipping Fulgrim.
At the head of the table stood Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss, a formidable figure with the unmistakable emblem of the Dreadwing etched onto his dark pauldrons. His sharp features were etched with a grim determination as he peered at the holographic map. His voice was unwavering as he addressed the room. "Brothers, we have a chance to strike a decisive blow against the Emperor's Children. To obliterate their presence on this world and secure a vital victory for the Imperium."
But amidst the resolute nods of agreement, a lone figure, clad in the hulking Terminator armour of the Deathwing, stepped forward. It was Captain Seraphiel, a grizzled warrior with countless campaigns etched into his history.
"Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss," he began, his voice heavy with authority, "I must respectfully disagree. The cost of deploying Exterminatus at this stage of the campaign would be catastrophic. We would wipe out all life on this world, loyalist and traitor alike, and leave nothing but a desolate wasteland."
Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss's gaze hardened, his eyes locking onto Captain Seraphiel. "Captain, the greater war against Horus looms over us. We need to end this conflict swiftly. Fulgrim and his twisted kin must be eradicated before they can join the Traitor Warmaster. Exterminatus is our surest path to victory."
As the debate escalated, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile curled on the edges of Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss's lips, hinting at a chilling mentality beneath the surface. It was a smile that sent a shiver down the spines of those who caught a glimpse of it, revealing a disturbing willingness to embrace any means, no matter how extreme, to achieve his vision of victory.
Captain Seraphiel's voice remained unwavering. "Eskaton, there must be another way. We can isolate and neutralise their leadership, dismantle their war machine without resorting to such utter devastation."
Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss's expression revealed the strain of the decision. "Captain, I respect your counsel, but we cannot afford to risk this opportunity. We shall move forward with the Exterminatus order."
The room fell into an uneasy silence as the gravity of the decision settled upon them all. In the conflict against the Emperor's Children, the Dark Angels faced a moral crossroads, torn between their relentless pursuit of victory against Horus and their duty to the Imperium. As they departed the briefing room, the vague hint at the unhinged mentality of Eskaton Kazrai Cadmoss left a chilling echo that lingered in the minds of the officers, a stark reminder of the moral cost of the Horus Heresy's darkest days.
750pts - Zone Mortalis - Dark Angels Vs Alpha Legion