Disclaimer: Any names you recognize I do not own, they are creations of Games Workshop. Below is the first draft of my backstory for my army. Your critic is welcomed. I have written fanfiction before but never anything for warhammer 40k. Please let me know what you think. I used Google translate for the various languages. I used Greek, Latin, Romanian, and Croatian, if the words are not right, please forgive me. I was trying to go for latin sounding phrases that are usually seen in the 40k universe as arcane languages. Let me know what you think!
This is the Codex of the Blood Angel Successor chapter known to the Adeptus Administratum as Azkaellon's Blood. For Sanguinius so loved his Legions that he asked his Sanguinary Guard Herald know as Azkaellon to stay behind on Terra whilst the rest of the Sanguinary Guard and a company of Blood Angels followed Sanguinius unto the traitorous Battle Barge known as the Vengeful Spirit, in conjunction with a legion of Imperial Fists and the Emperor himself. Azkaellon watched as his primarch and order master stepped up onto the teleportation pad. Azkaellon folded his arms over his chest, bent forward and intoned the usual phrase "áxios, victorie pentru împărat, exterminatus impuratissimis" In Imperial Gothic it would say "He is worthy, Victory for the emperor, Exterminate the defiled." He saw his primarch smile and respond with a nod of the head and the response "Ako Car ga želi" "If the Emperor wills it" Azkaellon smiled turned to the Scout that was manning the pad and nodded. Azkaellon turned back to his primach with the feeling of dread settling in his heart, He felt as if this was the last time he would see his order master and friend.
As Azkaellon left the teleportation room with a heavy heart and went to view the troops that where still under his command, these troops had been trained in the Home-system of Baal; the home system of the Blood Angels. Turning towards the carnage of the battle, Azkaellon noted that the Legions that were left were holding their own forces of chaos, while the Blood Angels were pushing theirs back towards the malignant pulsing warp portals that were spewing these changed marines forth. Azkaellon picked up the banner with the Sanguinius colors, with the rallying cry of "For the Emperor!" All the Legions who heard answered the cry by repeating it. The changed marines quaked as the loyal marines seemed invigorated by the sudden rallying cry. Azkaellon looked to the sky and prayed to his primarch and emperor that all would survive this day. Before pulling his mask over his face, Azkaellon fastened the banner to the slot provided on his backpack so as to leave both his hands free. Without hesitation Azkaellon leveled his Angelus Boltgun at the nearest Chaos Marine, the chaos marines' head exploded as the round entered his armor. Azkaellon pulled the Glaive Encarmine from his waist and dove into the fray with reckless abandon in an effort to protect the throne of the human empire.
Several hours after Azkaellon joined the battle a soul wrenching shriek went up from all the Blood Angels present. As if they had practiced it; in unison, they all fell to their knees and cried out in anguish. This so unnerved the chaos marines that they backed up several paces. The other Legions took advantage of the momentary lapse in their enemies' concentration and pressed their way farther into the fray and slew many chaos marines and daemons before they could regroup. The few priests and Sanguinary Guard that knew what this anguish meant looked to the heavens screaming laments and promising revenge for this death. Azkaellon wept behind his mask as he screamed out in pain and anguish. He knew the only thing that could affect so many of his brothers would be the death of the one they all shared, their primach, battle brother, order master, friend; Sanguinius. He was lost to them now, they would not know how until the returning party relayed the story. Azkaellon could see some of his brothers leaping up, entering the fray with more force than before, not caring for their own safety; just killing everything in sight and ignoring their wounds as if they were not there. He knew this was the result their primarch feared for all his companies. With tears still streaming out of his eyes Azkaellon stood with unsteady legs and raised his sword in one hand and his boltgun in the other joined his brothers in the fight.
When he got fatigued, Azkaellon stowed his sword at his waist and took careful aim with every shot he took; taking out an adversary with every shot. As he raised his boltgun again Azkaellon noticed that their adversary was returning to the malignant warp from whence they came. Retiring with as much zealous as they had fought, leaving the devastated Blood Angels and other legions behind. The brothers that had been lost to their rage were being tranquilized by the Sanguinary priests and being prepped from their transport back to the Baal system to see if they can be helped. Azkaellon looked around the field to see it soaked in blood; both loyalist and traitorous. He saw all of the apothecaries wandering the fallen to help those who could be saved and recovering the gene-seeds of those who had passed. Azkaellon turned his back on the battle field, wondering how they had survived while the one who had helped create them had perished.