House Frostwyrm
Born in the fires of war and loss House Frostwyrm stands new-born and vigorous, though few in number they quest to bring Honour and Glory to their name as fiercely as any other Knights.
History
The story of House Frostwyrm begins at the dawn of M41 when several worlds on the edge of the St Karyl Trail dropped out of contact, such occurrences are not uncommon in the Imperium and little thought was given to what may have happened. It was only after several years that the Adeptus Administratum noticed that these worlds had failed to pay their tithes and sent a scout flotilla to covertly observe the situation. Their findings were shocking; on each world the population had been enslaved to a monstrous Xeno breed and over every world vast hourglass shaped ships hung low, guzzling resources. There did not seem to be any resistance and even Imperial Navy ships hung upon the vessels like vixens protecting their cubs. The affront that a Xeno breed thought it could take Imperial worlds was unacceptable and the Lords Militant immediately dispatched a task force to retake the worlds and claim back the Emperor's territory and resources, the populations of the worlds were also to be rescued if there was time. The expedition was a disaster as soon as the fleet dropped out of warp space they were betrayed, spontaneous mutinies swept every ship, violence and mindless fury engulfed the crews causing them to tear apart their own vessels. Only a handful of ragged survivors returned, saved by the ruthless expedient of venting mutineering decks into hard vacuum, they limped away to carry word back to the Imperium.
Shocked by this treachery the Imperium fell back and fortified the Warp Routes that led deeper into Imperial space whilst desperately searching for answers, then the Administratum found a tenuous link that at last identified the vile interlopers. Long ago in the Halcyon days of the Great Crusade the XIIIth Legion had encountered such Xenos before: the Osarian Psybrids. Gaseous beings of immense psychic power that could psychically enslave whole worlds and the very armies sent to fight them. The Psybrids had once wrought terrible grief upon the Imperium until they were defeated by no less a personage than Roboute Guilliman himself and declared extinct, a declaration that now seemed to be premature.
The threat of these Xeno's presence and the insult their continued existence gave to the memory of Roboute Guilliman inspired the High Lords to redirect no less than four Space Marine Chapters to the war, the Storm Heralds, the Smoke Jaguars, the Red Templars and the Jade Dragons. Alas the Astartes were delayed by warp storms and before they could reach the sector the Psybrids struck, launching a lighting blitzkrieg deeper into Imperial Space. Planet after planet fell until they stood poised to attack the world of Fodina, a barren mining world but ideally positioned on the warp routes. If Fodina fell the Psybrids could move to cut Imperial supply routes in half but worse could invade the vital Forge World Crux Lapis and in turn the Knight World San Grael. This threat spurred the Adeptus Mechanicus to commit the Legio Astraman, Skitarii regiments, vast hordes of weapon servitors and every Knight that could be found to the battle for Fodina.
When the Psybrids struck their force easily shattered the small defence fleet and overwhelmed the paltry orbital defences opposing them, landing vast numbers of troops unopposed. Their forces were comprised of multitudes of enthralled slaves, driven mad with blood fury, led by ethereal gaseous beings. Towering over them all was a gigantic slug like Gestalt creature rivalling the size of a Battle Titan, carrying endless waves of heaving bulk and lashing tentacles it directed the masses with ruthless precision. The hordes boiled out of their landing zones and poured toward Fodina's capital city and only settlement of any real size or value but here they at last found true resistance. Ringed around the capital city where miles upon miles of trench works manned by regiments of the Imperial Guard, supported by the servitors, Skittari and esoteric weapons of the Mechanicum. Here and there flashed discharges of Warp energy, the tell-tale sign of sanctioned psykers fighting to hold back the enslaving sorcery of the Psybrids.
The two foes met in a clash of blood and fire, the mindless slaves driven into the teeth of las-fire and artillery but for every one slain ten more would surge forward to take his place. The Imperials held firm, tanks and heavy weapons carving great furrows through the sea of bodies but the endless masses showed fewer signs of self-preservation than a horde of Orks. Metre by metre they ground forward until they reached the trenches then poured over throwing themselves into feral hand to hand combat. Soon the trenches rang to the sound of combat, the rage of soldiers and bellows of commissars meeting the sibilant hisses and gasps that were all the slaves could make but all the more terrifying for it. The Mechanicus forces met the horde with bolter fire and electro whips punctuated with binary chants but mathematics of war were undeniable and for all their might they could not match the sheer numbers arrayed before them. Then the Psybrids themselves came, hissing, wispy creatures gliding through the combatants as easily as smoke, their targets were the sanctioned psykers of the imperials seeking them relentlessly as bloodhounds to the prey. Guards and psychic wards proved useless against them and anybody they touched fell down as if the life had been drained from them. One by one the Psykers fell and as each died gaps appeared in the mental shields over the army, whole regiments suddenly dropped their weapons and stood slack jawed as their minds were enslaved, then they turned and threw themselves at their comrades. Only around the hardened formations of gun servitors and skittari was the resistance able to hold firm, their hollowed out minds useless to the Psybrids. But they were as islands in a sea of foes, each cut off and isolated from any support or aid.
The battle hung on a knife's edge but then from the edge of the city came the Titans of the Legio Astraman, horns blaring in challenge as they marched into battle. Among their number were ancient and lauded names such as 'Magna Caedes', 'Deus Invicta', 'Omnium Dominatur' and the twin Warlords 'Dies Judicium' and 'Dies Vindicta'. Massive missile barrages tore into the horde levelling great swathes of enemies while brilliant bolts of plasma incinerated all they touched. The Titans pushed deep into the horde their mega –bolters tearing apart the mindless slaves and even the Psybrids could not resist the searing touch of turbolaser fire. The foe had nothing to match the sheer power of the Titans, small arms fire pattered uselessly off their void shields and contemptuously the Titans stepped over their heads pressing ever deeper into the horde. Fire and woe did they unleash with the merest gesture and with the jubilant cries of the Imperials ringing across the line they sought to engage the Gestalt beast at the heart of the invasion.
For a moment it seemed the Titans would turn the tide but the Psybrids had spent thousands of years preparing to meet the imperials in battle and had developed new and deadlier ways of war. The towering Gestalt creature roared and convulsed, unleashing concussive waves of psychic power and crackling hoarfrost blew out into the desert air. With a searing crescendo of force reality split as jagged warp portals tore open and from them poured a tidal wave of slaves and thralls, their sheer numbers dwarfing the paltry mob already committed. Each portal led to an enthralled world and waiting to come through them were billions upon billions of slaves, the imperium no longer faced an army they faced the entire population of a half dozen worlds!
Endless waves of mad slaves poured through the portals onto the plains swarming over the feet and up the legs of the Titans. The earth quaked and shivered as the Titans stamped and kicked out, crushing scores with every step, but it mattered not for they were as drowning men fighting the incoming tide. In desperation they unleashed mega-bolter fire and Hellstorm blasts at their own feet but they simply could not cover every angle of approach. The hordes never ceased clambering up their legs, tearing at hatches and throwing themselves into gears and under pistons. It was the Reaver 'Deus Invicta' who fell first, a single hatch giving way to allow the feral masses to tear inside and rip the crew limb from limb. The Warhound 'Magna Caedes' strode full speed through the multitudes, desperately jinking and changing course, trying to shake bodies from its limbs as a dog trying to shake off fleas. 'Omnium Dominatur' was rocked as mindless slaves tore into its plasma blastgun, a single chink in its coolant pipes unleashing the power of a caged star. The resultant explosion atomised everybody within a 500 metre radius but also liquefied the entire upper half of the Titan leaving its legs standing as a bizarre statue in an ocean of enemies. Slowly step by step the Titans were forced into full retreat, weapons blazing constantly as they were inexorably pushed back.
The heaving throngs hissed in triumph and swept forwards to overrun the Imperials, endless waves overwhelming the trenches and pressing right up to the walls of the City, but in doing so they left behind the Gestalt creature leaving it exposed. Suddenly a series of blasting charges went off in the middle of the battleground, blowing away the packed earth to reveal hidden bunkers cunningly buried and concealed, a hidden reserve held back for the direst of emergencies. Bulky blast doors swung apart and from the darkness within charged forth the proud Knights of San Grael, flying many house pennants and some bearing the colours of Freeblades. Their hulls glittered with psychic wards and silver pentagrams to hold back the enslaving power of the Psybrids and whereas the Titans were individual giants the knights moved with harmony and grace. At their head was the Freeblade Lancer 'Cold Vengeance' piloted by no other than Darreal, the living legend who held the line against Waaagh Redfang. Famed for killing the Chaos Titan 'Eternal Despair' and leading the charge at the battle of Black Gulch, the only man who lived to tell the tale. Following him came forth Lancers and Acherons, Paladins, Wardens, Gallants and Crusaders, engine after engine strode forth until fully three score Knights engaged the foe.
Darreal called out to his comrades, "All knights to Flying Wedge formation, Castigators and Wardens to the fore! Blitz attack, clear a path for our big guns!" with speed and ferocity the Knights scythed deeply into the packed masses annihilating anything that stood between them and the gestalt. The packs of slaves turned and raced to engage them, seeking to overwhelm them but the knights fought with peerless coordination, working as one to cover the angles. Where individuals broke through and clambered up the hulls of the knights they were met with stubber fire, their brothers sweeping each other's backs clear of danger. In moments the knights approached the gestalt foe and Darreal called new orders, "Break formation and form a perimeter, Crusaders and Acherons evenly spread. Hold the line and do not yield, were counting on you to buy us the time!" With perfect skill the knights split apart, their battlecannons and flamers keeping the hoards at bay. As one the heaving masses turned and attacked but they were met with bolt fire, incendiaries, barrages of missiles and the tide was held, the Knights couldn't possibly keep up this sustained barrage for more than a few minutes but a few minutes was all they needed. Darreal cried, "All Freeblades form up on me, for Glory and Honour attack, attack, attack!"
Breaking off from the perimeter a half-dozen Freeblade knights raced to engage the Gestalt and leading them was 'Cold Vengeance'. It was the Paladin 'Vigorous Retort' who had the honour of drawing first blood, its battlecannon shells exploding against the face of the Gestalt as it flinched back in pain. Not to be outdone 'Cold Vengeance' raced in, expertly evading the forest of tentacles to plunge its shock lance deep into the enemies' hide, using its superior speed to withdraw before it could be ensnared. Like the wolf pack circling the bear the Freeblades swooped around the Gestalt, hitting it hard and evading, never still for a moment. The Knight Errant 'Cleansing Flame' used its Thermal lance to sheer away tentacle after tentacle, clearing shots so the Magera 'Black Judge' could lash the beast's hide with arcs of lightning. The Paladins 'Thunderous Rebuke' and 'Vigorous Retort' coordinated their firepower, keeping up a continuous barrage at the monster's face to distract and confuse the foe. The Gallant 'Unending Zeal' and 'Cold Vengeance' swept in and out together, hitting hard and withdrawing constantly, tearing great gouges into the Gestalt. The beast roared in fury as the Knights took it apart piece by piece but the Xeno was not done yet.
With startling speed the beast swept its tentacles across the ground ensnaring 'Unending Zeal' against its foul hide, the Gallant fought on spearing its chainblade and Thunderstrike gauntlet deep into the mountain of flesh pulling it apart to reveal foul black organs. The Gestalt howled in agony but then rolled its vast bulk over crushing 'Undending Zeal' into the ground and giving lie to its name as it was shattered into a millions bent pieces. As the knights reeled from their loss the beast lashed a dozen tentacles up high into the air and plunged them down as one into the canopy of 'Black Judge'. Human engineering met Xeno abomination and almost proved its equal, almost, for a single tentacle penetrated through the canopy and stabbed through the chest of its pilot. With a cry of vengeance on their lips the Knights urged forward once more, determined to kill the vile beast, explosions tore at its hide and chainblades hacked and slashed but the Xeno only shuddered and heaved, opening its maw to vomit forth a torrent of acidic bile. The Paladin 'Vigorous Retort' was caught full on in the sickening tide and the pilot's screams tore through the vox as the acid ate its way through the hull into the cockpit, it was almost a relief when the vox finally fell silent. With a bellow of rage 'Cold Vengeance' charged forward determined to avenge the loss of so lauded a Knight but the beast scissored its tentacles low and neatly cut off the Lancer's right leg leaving it to fall pathetically face first into the dirt. With the loss of their leader the knights broke formation, losing cohesion and becoming vulnerable to its revenge. The vile beast lurched forward and brought its jaws down on the hull of 'Cleansing Flame', the Errant buckled at the knees but held firm. It juddered and shook as it fought free and staggered back, but in doing so it left dozens of armour plates in the Xeno's fangs shattering its psychic wards. With a hiss of hatred the beast directed a surge of psychic power at the Knight and the mighty engine fell still and silent as its pilot's brain was burned out and left the noble within little more than a vegetable.
All around the battle the torrent of slaves kept pouring out of the warp portals, the Knight's perimeter was being forced back step by step and the ammunition of those holding back the tide was finally running dry, the knights reduced to stubber fire and stamping their feet to buy more time. The Freeblades were falling one by one and all seemed lost but even then they fought on, sworn to their task, victory or death there were no other options. The Paladin 'Thunderous Rebuke' was snared by forest of tentacles, plasteel and Adamantium creaked and groaned as the beast sought to tear the noble engine in two, but at the last second the beast howled and reared back. Revealed back along its side was 'Cold Vengeance', lying prone in the dirt but levering itself up on its Ion shield, from here it could see the great gash left by 'Unending Zeal' and had lunged its shock lance deep within. The beast contorted and writhed as it sought to tear free but 'Cold Vengeance' held firm and fired a salvo of plasma blasts from its lance straight into the Xeno's black insides. With a scream of horror the beast burned from the inside out and fell dead into the dirt and with an explosion of prismatic light the warp portals slammed shut ending the tide of slaves.
With the loss of the Gestalt the Psybrids knew they were defeated, seeing the resurgent Imperials following the Titans back into battle the Xenos fell back to their ships, abandoning their slaves to Imperial vengeance. They retreated back to the void and immediately sailed to the worlds they had already conquered, fortifying them with haste. With such losses the Imperials were in no position to dispute the situation, their tattered and bloody armies were but a fraction of the might they would need to fight another war. Attempts were made in the Senatorum Imperalis to proclaim a crusade of Exterminatus against the worlds taken by the Psybrids but before anything could come of this the Imperium was swept up in the Macharian Heresy. Vast manpower was diverted away to deal with this crisis and so the Psybrids were left to fester in their isolation, in time becoming just another forgotten detail in the archives of Terra.
For those left behind there was only the sad tasks of counting the dead and the painful process of rebuilding, but even then the valour and loss of the fighters had to be recognised. The Freeblades of the imperium had sacrificed much, and risked all, in a unique act the High Lords and the Fabricator-generals jointly declared that to honour the saviours of Fodina a new Knight House would be founded. This house would join the ranks of the six extant houses of San Grael and would be formed from the Freeblades themselves led by the heroic Patriarch Darreal pilot of 'Cold Vengeance'. All previous debts were declared settled, any ties to other houses were severed and the surviving Freeblades were recognised as a House in their own right. The newly ennobled DukeDarreal led his scions to San Grael and raised his flag in the ruins of the Ivory keep, ancient stronghold of a House lost to antiquity. He oversaw the restoration of the fortress and declared it fit as the home of 'House Frostwyrm'. Taking noble wives and raising families the scions vowed, though small and new-born as they were, they would never falter in their duties and would win glory and honour for their name.
The Freeblades at last had a new home.
Homeworld
San Grael orbits its star on the very edge of the habitable zone and as a result is a frigid world of barren glaciers and frozen tundra home to deadly predators, giant beasts and packs of ravenous monsters. However human life is possible due to the presence of three moons whose conflicting gravitational pull triggers geological activity. This rampant volcanism results in vast mountain ranges rising from the glaciers and these ranges harbour extensive rift valleys. Heated by underground magma these rift-valleys are home to tropical micro-climates and are abundantly rich in fertile soil and mineral wealth dragged from the planet's core. San Grael seemed an ideal world to the first colonists but it soon became apparent that they had underestimated both the savage nature of the landscape as well as the sheer aggressiveness of the beasts that regularly descend into the rift-valleys to feast.
Beset on all sides by burning volcanic eruptions, freezing blizzards and the predations of savage Ursals, massive Gyrfalcons, swift Pardus's and cunning Jotun throngs the colonists beseeched their STC machines for aid and thus wrought their first Knight armours. The deep-core drilling stations that harvested the planet's wealth and kept the surging volcanoes in check proved ideal to serve as keeps and soon the colonists had many proud Knight Houses to stand to their defence. When the Age of Strife descended San Grael was wrapped in warp-storms and cut off entirely from the galaxy, the only order able to survive this calamity was the Knight Houses and they soon established themselves as feudal overlords. Under the aegis of the Knight Houses the colonists endured all that their world had to throw at them and they survived the horrors of the Age of Strife in bitter isolation.
Unlike most Knight Worlds no single House rose to dominate San Grael, the icy wastelands between pockets of civilisation serving to isolate the Houses, the few conflicts of the age being limited to dynastic struggles over the seat of the High King. Nonetheless millennia of neglect and endless attacks from mega-predators saw many houses fall into oblivion and the few survivors grew smaller and weaker until it seemed inevitable they too would fall. Located well off the trade routes of Segmentum Tempestus San Grael was bypassed by the Great Crusade and was not discovered until the Nova Terra Interregnum when the pilgrimages of Saint Karyl led the faithful away from the bitter infighting seeking new worlds to colonise. By this time the Knight Houses had dwindled to mere remnants of their former majesty and the handful of surviving Houses could only muster a few lurching, smoking antiques. Offered access to new technologies, trade and most importantly new Knight Engines the Houses eagerly embraced an alliance with the Tech-Priests and became a Mechanicus aligned world, its priests becoming Sacristans and its High King bending the knee to Mars. However they remain a proud and aloof people and have refused total subservience, operating under the Sidon Protocols as allies rather than vassals.
San Grael is a sparsely populated world, its inhabitants confined to isolated rift valleys that have been farmed since long before the coming of the Imperium. The common folk live simple agrarian lives working the terraced gardens carved into the valleys, eschewing most technologies beyond those needed for survival and traversing the wastelands between isolated pockets of civilisation. Crawlers traverse the icy glaciers along carefully screened 'ice-roads', carrying people and goods between the settlements in relative safety, if not speed.
Life on San Grael is extremely hierarchical, all men owe fealty to the Omnissiah but the most powerful man on the world is the High King. Below him are the various Dukes, each the head of his own Knight House and then the various nobles who pilot the ancient steeds Dukes will appoint esteemed members of their own courts to hold lands in his name, known as Barons, this is a position of great renown and wealth, competed for fiercely by the vassal Knights of the House.
Between the Knight Houses and the peasant folk are a caste of feudal nobles, known as the Magnates. These families are sworn vassals to the various Knight Houses and rule over many rift-valleys in their name. They command wealth and resources, to varying extents and may summon thousands of Bondmarns when required by their betters. It is also the Magnate's responsibility to collect taxes from the peasant folk and deliver half to the Dukes set above them.
The Magnate's lives are dominated by ancient traditions and courtly ritual, which is mostly a façade to hide the fact that they spend their days intriguing against one another. The slightest breach of etiquette is seized as a cause for conflict but such clashes are highly ritualized, more resembling tourney melees than genuine battle and have become festival days for the common folk. The victors of such tourneys usually win rights to strategic passes or valuable outposts but above all are seen as way to demonstrate their worth to one of Knight Houses. Each noble family owes fealty to one of the seven Knight Houses of San Grael and it is the burning ambition of every family for one their children to marry into the blood of a Knight House. While the Knights rule as distant, uninterested lords over their domains they still keep to their ancient oaths to protect the people from the predations of the ravenous monsters that roam the wastes and the fealty and respect they receive from the populace is absolute.
In contrast to this the peasant folk have an intricate caste-system. The lowest tier are Thralls, indentured debters or criminals, who cannot leave their master's lands or even marry without permission. The lowest rank of citizens are Freemarns, vagrant workers, beggars and carnival folk. Then there are Craftmarns who are respected for their artisan skills. Lundmarns, who own their land and farms and may own Thrall workers. Then there are Bondmarns, sworn foot-soldiers of the nobility who derive their power from their lord's might. Finally there are Guildmarns, heads of rich merchant clans, owners of Crawler trains and spaceport facilities. They are extremely wealthy, oft more than some Magnates, but they will never rise higher in social standing unless they have blood-ties to the nobility
The one feature that sets San Grael out from other Knight worlds is that their Sacristans do not owe fealty to individual houses, instead forming a monolithic and wide spread priest caste, known as Magisters. This is because their duties extend to operating and maintaining the ancient magma regulators, mineral extractors and heat-distribution technologies left from the earliest days of colonisation. This is an essential task as not only does the wealth of the world rest on their output but they also keep the rampant volcanoes in check and distribute their heat across the rift-valleys. Should these ancient devices fail the world would be swept by surging lava or freeze to death as the ice reclaimed all. It is the Sacristans' duty to keep this from happening and while the Knights hold absolute authority over all matters temporal no noble would think of interfering with their sacred mysteries. The chief of their order is the First-Magister, the holder of the most ancient technology and the only man who can rival the High King for his patronage with the Mechanicus.
+++Crux Lapis+++
Crux Lapis is a Mechanicus outpost located several light years from San Grael and it is the only fully-fledged Forge World in the sector. It was founded originally as a mining outpost but when the nearby Knight world was discovered the Fabricator-General declared that the outpost would be expanded to true Forge World status so as to best exploit their wealth. Despite being designated a tertiary minoris Forge by the standards of Mars, Crux Lapis remains the sole source of the rarest and most exotic technologies in local space.
This Forgeworld is geologically unique for it is a single vacuum formed geode the size of a small moon, with an impure adamantium crust several miles thick and an interior filled with the rarest forms of crystal. These crystals have proved unrivalled for the production of potent laser weaponry, plasma distribution systems and the most advanced logic engines and cogitators. The exterior surface of Crux Lapis is covered in defence emplacements and starship dockyards but it is on the inner surface that the Mechanicus have built their Forges. Ancient gravitic generators and atmosphere processors make the interior liveable (by Martian standards) and were it not for the horizon soaring away overhead it would be easy to mistake it for the surface of any other world. Here vast foundries create the secret wonders known only to the Tech-Priests and they maintain vast nutrient pools to encourage the growth of the precious crystals Crux Lapis is famed for.
To protect the Forge World the Mars has assigned a demi-legion garrison of Titans from the Legio Astraman, nominally 26 engines of which 22 are currently functional. This garrison has stood for thousands of years and was commonly viewed as an inglorious posting; however since their home Forgeworld Graia was devastated by Waaagh Grimskull they have lost all contact with their brethren and become a separate Legio in all but name.
To Mars the Legio Astraman is sufficient to protect such a remote outpost, however the demands on the Titan Legions are endless and their strength is always in dire need to turn the tide of the Imperium's most desperate wars. At no point can the Imperium afford to have more than a third of this force in garrison at Crux Lapis and even those spend most of their time in refit. To make up this shortfall the Tech-priests have called upon their allies in the Knight Houses of San Grael and each House is honour bound to send one-tenth of their strength to stand vigil over the Forge World. In addition to this the Houses routinely send their scions out to fight alongside the Titans in battle, supporting their charges and guarding their flanks. The Knights see this as a unique opportunity for glory and to earn respect from their mighty cousins in the Legions, little realising that the haughty Princeps look down upon all lesser pretenders and treat them with at best amusement and at worst scorn for their efforts. A fact the executors and familiars of the Legio work ceaselessly to keep concealed.
Organisation
Over the last thousand years House Frostwyrm has slowly and painstakingly built up its strength and now can field thirteen Questoris-Knight engines, and roughly the same number of Armiger-types, this is barely half that of its nearest rival house. The Mechanicus awards Knight Engines based on feats of valour and service yet House Frostwyrm has too few Knights to risk in wild grabs for glory, while battlefield losses take decades to replace. With so few warriors available the House has had to content itself with serving as support to more feted Houses or as skirmishers for the Legio Astraman.
To cope with their limited numbers the House demands maximum flexibility from each Knight engine and endeavour to make sure every scion has the tools to meet any situation. For these reasons the Gallant and Crusader patterns have never found much esteem within House Frostwyrm whereas the Paladin, Errant and Warden Patterns are heavily favoured. The house has but a single Cerastus-Lancer, the original suit from the Houses's founding and now the oldest model in service, reserved for the Duke himself when he chooses to ride to war.
House Frostwyrm owes fealty to House Pardus, its ruler also the High King of San Grael and the Mechanicus spokesman to all the Knight Houses and vassals of the world. It is his judgement that determines how the supply of new Knight armours are distributed to the various houses and he always makes sure his own House takes the lion's share of this bounty. With sixty Knights ready to march at any time Pardus are twice the size of any other house and when the High King calls upon his feudal vassals the combined might of every House swells this to over 200 engines.
+++Lifeward+++
With so few Knight Engines available and so many younger sons being born competition for Knighthood within House Frostwyrm is fierce and ruthless. In the centuries after Frostwyrm's formation it was common for blood to be shed and even lives spent in the pursuit of glory. This culminated in the Night of the Long knives when a dozen of the claimants managed to assassinate each other leaving the house temporarily heirless. The house stood in jeopardy of falling and the Duke of the House was forced to create a new position in their ranks, that of the Lifeward.
Chosen not from the noble scions but instead from a common family of long, loyal service this individual was tasked with vouchsafing the life of the Duke's youngest heir on and off the battlefield. To achieve this role the Lifeward was granted a full suite of augmetics and a single Knight engine: the first Warden granted to House Frostwyrm. This is a source of great contention for typically no commoner, no matter how feted, could expect to rise higher than Armiger pilot, to command a Questoris-class steed is indeed a unique honour To ensure their loyalty the sons of the Lifeward are held as hostage, their lives forfeit should the Lifeward fail in his duty. To their credit not a single heir has ever fallen and the position itself has now become a hereditary title passed down from father to son for centuries.
Combat Doctrine
In combat House Frostwyrm has never favoured the wild charges and vainglorious challenges to single combat that other Houses relish. Instead they focus on dedicated, concentrated fire and mutually supportive units working as pairs, glory being shared amongst the team rather than the individual. This conservatism has led to other Houses seeing Knights of Frostwyrm as inglorious, even cowardly, but this is an unfair slander as the scions fight as steadfastly and honourably as any of their rivals. Through centuries of dedicated service the House has meticulously built up its strength and it is only in the last century that they can finally mount independent operations.
Battlecry
Burning zeal and cold fury!