World Eaters: The Scarred Warriors of the Pit
The Twelfth Legion's legacy is one of stolen victories and broken wars. Their legacy was written in stone the moment their Primarch faltered; how he was the only Primarch never to conquer his home, the one who was shackled into slavery by techno-babraism while his brothers became kings and warlords. If their grievances weigh heavy upon them, the sons of Angron do not let it show. Theirs is a Legion of brotherhood and they carry the many traditions of the Pit from which their father crawled from with them. A reminder of the tyranny that they wish to avoid, something which has inspired great trust in them since the golden era of the Great Crusade itself. Like their father, they carry a great rage within them but have tempered it in the fires of war and the bolts they have planted within their skulls. To wage war with the likes of the World Eaters is to court death itself, for the among the Nine Loyalist Legions none know how better to tear down a world apart than sons of the Eater of Worlds. They fear not the xenos, heretic, traitor nor daemon. If they have the audacity to challenge Mankind then it is the World Eaters that will guard the Realm of Man and tear asunder any who dare defy it.
Origins
The darkness of the Old Night was a blanket across the universe; it smothered all in its dark embrace and allowed for the mutant and xenos to rise and plague humanity. Millions of worlds were cut off from one another, leaving innocents to fend for themselves. Many worlds fell under the threat of the xenos as ruthless Dark Eldar stole and butchered worlds or the rising mutant hordes assailed any form of civilization in their fury. But it was upon the world of Nuceria where Mankind fell to its lowest of impulses: violence. It was a world laden with violence, where mutants were hunted down and the world safe from xenos, and yet it fell due to the depravity of man against man.
The oppressors of Nuceria were human, cruel, depraved, and vicious but human nonetheless. The world was ravaged by its many fiefdoms who used ancient weaponry that they did not fully understand to wage war on one another for trivial reasons of greed and arrogance. How many soldiers died for the whims of these childish overlords can never be fully known, only what happened in the years that Angron himself crashed down upon Nuceria has survived to be recorded into Imperial archives.
It was recorded in the history of the World Eaters The Crimson Scrolls that Angron crashed down near the city-state of Desh'ea: the worst of all Nuceria's urban sprawls. It was from Desh'ea that the sport of gladiator combat began. A debased sport that focused on making slaves fight for their betters simply for the sake of the blood spilled. There was no restraint in this rampant murder-sport to the point where prized slaves were forcefully implanted with the monstrous archeotech known as 'Butcher's Nails' to increase one's capacity for rage and violence. This archeotech would allow only respite to come when the feeling of blood and the adrenaline rush of a kill occurs. A dark legacy of a blighted world.
And so, the Dark Gods cast Angron upon Nuceria, sending his pod crashing just out near the city-state of Desh'ea. The intention of their scheme was clear; let the bloodlust of Desh'ea infest Angron's soul, corrupt it with the murder-urge. High riders from the city found this child from the stars wounded, though by what few can say as the corpses were mangled beyond recognition. Some believe that it was simply local bandits, others believe darker creatures tried to take Angron's life that night but failed. Some race of xenos perhaps knew what Angron would grow up to be and tried to halt that by ending the noble soul now before it had the chance to bloom into one of Mankind's champions. Whatever the case, this star-child was far too weak to attack the city-guard as they collared and dragged him into Desh'ea like a dog. It was a cruel first impression that Angron's fellow species made upon him. A poison that would take a great deal to exorcise in later years.
Angron's time among the pit of Nuceria was one fraught with constant and excruciating pain, both from the Butcher's Nails and from slaughtering any who was thrown in the arena against him. There was no respite, no compassion in the slave-masters of Nuceria. No remorse was to be found among that dark place. Worse still, Angron himself became a victim of the Butcher's Nails insidious, having his transhuman mind flayed by the kiss of this dark piece of technology. His days were spent in combat and his nights in the cold of the slave cell. It was here he gained his name Angron which meant 'Rager' in Nagrakali. It seemed the Dark Gods had all but managed to place Angron on a world that would break him and mold him to their fell design. Such malleability was now possible but the Dark Gods of the Warp did not count on one thing: and that was humanity's ability to find hope in the greatest of depths.
Angron snarled like a wounded lion as he half-marched and was half-dragged back into his cell. The fights today have been brutally short ones. None could stand against Angron, heads rolled and limbs were torn apart with the same ease that one might break a twig. It eased the Butcher's Nails, that horrific device that dug into Angron's skull. It soothed them and abetted their rage. Angron's rage, however, still fumed. The look in the crowds as he spilt skulls, how they forced weeping men and women to bleed. It was galling. It was broken. It was... inhumane.
And yet, he felt nothing. How could he do anything? He was but a slave among slaves. The guards opened the doors to his cell and he marched instead like a trained animal. His great bulk settled against the wooden bench and creaked under the pressure of his size. With a low animal keen Angron placed his head in his hands. There was no honour in that noise. No integrity. You would not be able to tell that this was one of Mankind's demigods. It was an angel gone to seed upon broken soil. This place was monstrous, it was breaking. There was no respite, no freedom. How could something as low as him be free?
"Boy," a voice said, drawing Angron away from his woe. He raised his head and looked upon Thresh, a fellow slave though one much older. One who had killed for as long as he could walk. "Boy, do not weep. Do not give them anything. Hold to your pride and your hope."
"What hope?" Angron rasped, his voice predator low. "What, hnnnh, is hope in this forsaken place?"
The old slave smiled, and while missing a good many teeth, it managed to be a warming sight, despite the nervous tics that blighted Thresh's expression. "There is hope on the horizon, I feel it in the wind. I can taste it in the air. Tyranny cannot endure forever, Angron. It feeds on itself until there is nothing left. When this empire falls do you want to give them the satisfaction of making you weaker for it. There is a better life waiting for us."
Angron stared at the slave and considered the weight of his words. This man who had seen Angron tear apart limbs and shatter skulls believed that there was some semblance of hope – even for something like him. Even here, even in this hell. Angron considered the weight of those words, while above unknown to his eyes, the universe held its breath. This was a possibility. A divergence in the stream of fate. The knife's edges and the players watched with hunger and eager eyes.
A serene smile passed across Angron's lips and he flexed and roared against his chains. A decision had been made at this moment. To not allow this tyranny to stand unpunished. To allow nothing like this to stand unchallenged. Each man and woman should be allowed to stand shoulder to shoulder with their fellows. Equality and freedom was the right of all human beings. The chains snapped and broke spilling links everywhere. Thresh looked on in wonderment as Angron approached and took Thresh's chains in his great hands.
"Why wait for the hope? Why not claim, hhhn, it?"
And in the Great Game, the Dark Gods raged.
The revolution that Angron incited exploded overnight - how could it not with one of the vaunted sons of the Emperor leading it. With a demigod leading them the slaves of the Pits rose up against their high-riding masters. The nobles of Nuceria were a woeful force when it came to war, they left that for their slaves. As such Angron and his slave brotherhood quickly cast off their chains and ravaged the city and its oppressive system. Slaves of all kinds were freed while the slavers were given death – a better fate than their rightfully deserved. The fighting was fierce and brutal. But Angron and his fellows with veterans of hundred of blood fights while the Kin-Guard of Nuceria had grown fat and lazy due to their negligent masters. It was only due to the advanced weaponry the Kin-Guard had that Angron and his fellows were forced to flee into the Waste. Though they left plenty of the slavers dead in their wake.
However, fate seemed to favour the slavers as the city-states of Nuceria rallied their armies to hunt down their escaped chattel whose rebellion was causing discontent amongst the millions still held in bondage. Their combined armies – despite being the poor fighters that they were – would easily crush Angron and his slaves with their more advanced weaponry. Provisions had run dry and morale among the freed slaves low. Angron knew this and decided that it would be better that they all died free men and women. Not slaves. So, it was said that he stood upon the crags of the highest peaks and looked down upon the slaver army below and cried: "High-riding dogs! I am Angron Desh'ea of the Pit. I am the Rager and the Breaker. I am all that you fear: a man who knows that freedom is the right of all beings. You will not take us! You will be made to bleed! Your blood will stain these rocks for generations!" A cry took up upon the slaves and they too knew that this was to be their last stand. A glorious one at that. Fate however seemed to have a different plan in store.
The Emperor had come to collect His lost son and to take him away from this world of monsters that He had found. It was said that he initially planned on simply teleporting Angron away from the conflict – out of pragmatism or fatherly fear is often debated – however it was Ibram Gheer, Legion Master of the War Hounds that forced His hand despite their oaths of loyalty to the Emperor. Gheer watched his father, the scarred giant, make his last stand and found that would not do. So, he ordered the War Hounds planet side to fight for their father and his army. It is said that when the Emperor heard such news He was said to smile. After all what could He have expected from the War Hounds? Soon, he committed His own forces to the battle to free Angron and his fellows. What followed was a simple massacre; there is simply no other word for the what followed. The armies of the Nucerian city-states died that day but among the escaped slaves none lost their lives. The battle saw Angron claim the title 'Lord of the Red Sands' as he joined his gene-enhanced sons in battle and afterwards an entire Legion knelt on the battlefield as the Emperor Himself landed upon Nuceria.
Nuceria did not receive any unification. It was a world laid into ruin. The city-states were crushed utterly by the combined efforts of Angron's slave army and the War Hounds, and it was clear to the Emperor that even if he did conquer the planet Angron would not rule such a world. The only knowledge taken from Nuceria was their technology, the pain-machines that were placed into the skulls of the slaves. As for the slaves many were given a choice of habitable worlds to live upon in peace by the Emperor – an action that was said to gain Angron's loyalty to his father there and then. Those that refused were given places in the Imperial Army and became the first regiments to serve alongside the War Hounds. Some even reached loftier positions with the aid of the education provided to them by the Imperium; much to Angron's quiet joy.
As for Angron and his father the pair talked with one another often just between themselves. It was said that the Emperor revealed His initial plan to take His son to safety without his slave army. In response Angron was said to have appreciated the Emperor for his honesty, furthermore they debated what to do with the Butcher's Nails in Angron's skull. Angron refused to have them taken out, the words of Thresh still in his mind, and the credible danger that removing them would permanently damage or kill him, primarch physiology notwithstanding. He would have the universe see him for what he was and would not allow Nuceria or the Emperor to take that from him. The Emperor acknowledged this and respected His son's decision. As for Nuceria itself, Angron wanted no part of the world and left in the dust it was born to. However, Nuceria would not be forgotten that easily and in the years to come would plight the sons of Angron again…
The Great Crusade
"War Hounds? Hnngh, you say you are War Hounds. No, that will not do not at all. A hound is a base creature, one without morality or conscience. It bays and snarls at those who collar it. I will not be a hound; I refuse to bend and scrape to the whims of a tyrant. I refuse to allow my pain to justify violence. We are not hounds, we are made to be warriors. Each of us carries that strength and with it, that burden. We are not the enablers of terror nor shall we be instruments of mindless destruction. We are people and so we shall be of the people. No more fear-mongering. Hnnh, only hope. My brothers and sisters were the Eaters of Cities, we devoured corruption and spat out a clean slate, so shall you do the same. We shall devour worlds corrupted by tyranny and xenos, purge them, and leave in our wake a chance for a better future. My World Eaters… my sons." -Angron, Lord of the Twelfth Legion, upon the unification of his War Hounds and Eaters of Cities into the World Eaters.
Angron made it little secret of what Nuceria had done to him and his fellow slaves. The Butcher's Nails were known and seen as an example of how far Mankind could fall without the principles of the Imperial Truth to guide them. What was not said was that there were those jealous of Angron and his slaves, that being the War Hounds themselves. They felt disconnected from their father due to not fully understanding his pain – and it was said there were some Astartes of the XII who were rankled that mortals were closer to their demigod father than they were. As such, in secret, the War Hounds created a crude copy of the Butcher's Nails. Their copy would give them a surge of adrenaline with each kill and boost their already impressive stamina. In secret the War Hounds hammered these Nails into their skull. The response from Angron was said to be one of pure rage. An uncharacteristic rage not only at the War Hounds but at himself. His shirking of his sons had led to this feeling of resentment in them and now he feared he had lost them to the poison of Nuceria; a world that would follow Angron even after leaving it a ruined world.
Luckily, the Emperor came to his broken son's aid again and with the help of those mortals of Nuceria still within the War Hounds ranks, Angron was able to teach his sons some measure of mastery over their Butcher's Nails and led to improvement on the design to limit its downsides. These led to a change in their name and teachings, from the slaves of Nuceria, the War Hounds learned much on the gladiator rites of their Primarch's homeworld – and with Angron's permission – began to incorporate them into the Legion. The War Hounds became forgotten and took the name of the Eater of Worlds, after Angron's Eater of Cities, and so the Twelfth Legion became known as the World Eaters; the gladiator-slayers of the Imperium.
Prior to Angron's leadership, the War Hounds were known as one of the more ruthless Legions. They cared little for their mortal counterparts, and many Imperial regiments were lost for reasons as simply as the War Hounds not giving them orders – or charging ahead and leaving them open for slaughter. While not as dark a reputation as the likes of the Imperial Fists or Iron Hands, this led to the World Eaters being known as one of the more unreliable Legions to fight with. And isolation can be a dangerous thing to a Legion as the legacy of the Rout shows. As such Angron went out of his way to quash this reputation and indeed, the World Eaters took to it with zeal. It seemed that the many gladiator traditions of Nuceria coupled with discussion with the Eaters of Cities had led to a new-found appreciation in the World Eaters – none were to be left behind.
Mortal units found themselves fighting alongside the World Eaters something of a comfort. Gone were the raging berserkers of the old XII now the World Eaters were the protectors they were forged to be. Stories of their courageous deeds began to spread, stories of mortal and transhuman standing back to back in the face of the xenos soon became the stories of many an army barrack. In fact, the World Eaters soon became known as the friendliest toward their human counterparts, often the Eaters of Cities acting as a liaison between the mortal units and those of the World Eaters. One notable mortal within the World Eaters was Lotara Sarin, captain of the Twelfth Legion's flagship: the Conqueror, Angron was said to have a soft spot for the savage captain to the point where he sent a group of Administratum staff packing back to Terra due to them simply annoying her. A notable calm affair among a savage Legion to the point that the reason was sent back was, humorously, due to space sickness - a wry idea that came from Khârn's mind.
To Angron war was something of a burden and a pleasure. He excelled in combat – to the point that it was said that he was one of the mightiest of the Primarchs. Indeed, this reputation was well-deserved. However, the Nails pained Angron's every step – unlike those of his sons who bore a more safe Imperial design. A cocktail of medicinal drugs made by the Emperor, psychic and psychological therapy and the presence of his sons helped stem the rage within him, Angron still acted constrained. When not fighting he seemed ungainly and out of his element. Still, his reputation allowed for many to overlook this behaviour – after all, Angron's past justified such clumsiness. As for the World Eaters, their Butcher's Nails made them more… proud and knightly if such a thing could be believed. That and the many gladiator rites and beliefs that took to their Legion seemed to mould the World Eaters into brotherhood that truly represented the ideals of the Great Crusade. They were an honest example of what the cost for peace would be but they would still fight for it all the same. A noble sentiment and a noble belief. Some Legions looked down on the World Eaters for this while others enjoyed their company. They were refreshing and eccentric examples of Astartes brotherhood upon the field.
When it came to war, the World Eaters descended like an avalanche upon their foes. Close combat was their forte and as such, with Angron's new leadership, the mortal units and Legio Titans would provide the firepower to support the World Eaters as they charged to get to grips with their foes. However, their battle on Nuceria had curbed their more violent tendencies and as such, the World Eaters were known to spare many of their foes – granted that they tossed down their weapons to them.
As for Angron's relationship with his brothers, these were as frayed as his mental state. He was said to loathe Fulgrim, especially due to his condescending look upon Angron and his gladiator ways; deriding Angron's own past as savage and senseless. Given what Angron had endured on Nuceria it took Lorgar and Horus to hold him back from Fulgrim when he heard that comment. As for the World Eaters, they quickly labelled the Emperor's Children a 'bunch of pompous, shit-stained peacocks.' Angron likewise was concerned for the well-being of Konrad Curze. He grew concerned for Curze's background and worried that he may repeat the massacre of his homeworld – though only to a greater degree. Though the irony of such a concern seemed to be lost on Angron. Angron likewise did not get along well with his more brutal brothers; such as the likes of Vulkan, Dorn or Manus. Some assumed that Angron would quickly get along with such brothers but they seemed to shun each other. Manus, Dorn and Vulkan seemed to view Angron as a brain-dead savage. While Angron shunned them, perhaps he feared that he would easily be welcomed among their number if he ever gave into his rage. Their actions reminded Angron of his limits and weakness – as well as what would happen if he ever strayed from the Emperor's light.
What is interesting is his constant distrust of Sangunius; perhaps it was the Angel's past that Angron distrusted or mayhaps some form of latent psyker power that could sense the corruption in Sanguinius' soul. But whatever the cause, Angron stayed clear from the fey mutant that led the Ninth Legion. In truth, Angron, despite his insistence towards brotherhood, strayed far and clear of his brothers. He would respect certain brothers; such as Guilliman or Horus. But love them… that he was not capable of. Not yet anyhow. He shunned their company over that of his own sons and mortal allies; finding their worldview and opinions far more agreeable than that of his brothers. Perhaps it was the Butcher's Nails that made Angron feel alienated from his brother or merely just another wound of Nuceria he was unable to exorcise.
As mentioned above, Angron and the World Eaters soon became heroes in the eyes of the Imperium. Great soldiers and warriors to fight next to and bleed with. As such when more brutal primarchs took advantage of their mortal units, it would often be Angron the commanders would turn to – if they were able too. More often than not this came down to World Eater ships shadowing their errant brothers; a reminder of their presence. That often worked. Until Leman Russ crossed a line in a brutal massacre of a world whose name has been forgotten by history. The clash of the VI and the XII has not for many a historian has studied: The Night of the Wolf.
The Red Angel and the Wolf King stood apart from one and other in the ruins of a burning world. The Vlka Fenryka had lived up to their name as the Rout, and had burned the cities to ash. Angron misliked that, it reminded him too much of Nuceria. Too much death on the wind, and worse still many of it was the Imperium's own soldiers who had done the butchering of innocents. The sight did not trouble Russ who stood there, the proud barbarian. In his hands he clutched a monstrous chainsword, Krakenmaw, named after the beasts of his homeworld. While around him his wolves prowled. As for the Space Wolves themselves, they stood in their disjointed packs. A far cry to the ordered and tightly disciplined ranks of World Eaters. No mortals could be found among their ranks today. Angron wanted none to see this.
Angron stood in his pseudo-gladiator armour, clutching his great axe Widowmaker in his hands. 'Brother,' he greeted.
'He sent you, didn't he?' snarled Russ. 'He dishonours me sending you.'
Angron shook his head. He came on no-one's will but his own. He had heard rumours of the death of mortal units within the Space Wolves – and other Legions beside. He had every intention in disciplining each of his brothers in turn. It was only happenstance that it was Russ first. Russ' pride was a frosty thing however. Cold bitterness wrapped in self-righteous fury. The truth wouldn't change it. He would still think himself in the right. The Sixth Primarch and his sons represented the wolves so well, thought Angron. It was said in the stories of Old Terra that wolves were a symbol of fear of the dark, and often featured among cautionary tales of kin slaying. Angron could see that curse in Russ, he was a wolf from the way he held himself. How he snarled, how his lip curled and how he lived that brutal vitality. So assured, so proud. So arrogant.
Angron hoped that it would not have come to this. But his brothers seem intent in letting the brutal nature of Russ run rampant. To accept that is part of their nature that it could not be helped. That Angron should just simply turn the other way andi ignore the screams of the mortals. The ones that they fight for. It was farcical. It was ridiculous. It could not yet, seeing his brother now. To see how troubled he looked. There were rumours and stories about the Legions. Of course, there would be. It was inevitable given their mysterious history and larger than life nature but the stories that spoke of the Rout were grim indeed. They were said to be Astartes-killers, kin-eaters and angel-hunters. Angron did not know how much truth there was in such stories. But given the black mark upon the War Hound's history and how they too hunted the precursors, he would not throw stones. He would help Russ if he had the mind to listen.
'I come out of concern,' Angron grunted, blood speckled his lips. 'I hear you are in trouble and wish to soothe your pain.'
'It is a black day in Hel that I would ever need your help, broken-one.'
Angron laughed, that insult was nothing new. 'Easy now, brother. I come because I worry for you and your sons. There is a tension in you, Leman. One that I would see eased. Words have reached my ears. Dark words and darker deeds. The mortal soldiers that are attached to you seem to believe it to be a death sentence. A punishment for a crime. I have heard how you and your wolves will leave them to die and how, and I pray this not to be true, you have thrown their corpses to be feasted upon those animals that fight beside you. I wonder, brother mine, what am I to do? Do I ignore, hhnh, the suffering as a necessity? No, I will not.'
Russ snarled and the sound was echoed by his wolves – and the Astartes that took their name. 'You dare?! You hypocrite. You with your sons and their metal spiders squatting in their brain. And you name us diseased. You think I care for the life of some mewling soldiers. This is bigger than them. You have no authority over me and mine, Red Angel. Begone from my sight.'
Angron smiled, it was a tense sight, showing his metal teeth that shone in the early sun. 'Yet, here I am, brother mine. Here to talk.'
The wind was picking up now. That was a bad sign to the World Eaters. An old belief of the Pits. A cold wind made for dark tidings. The Space Wolves felt at home among the cold and watched their cousins with eager eyes. Far too eager.
Russ' eyes narrowed at Angron's words. 'You speak pretty, brother. I did not expect that from you. I thought you would mumble and spit blood, savage,' Angron grinned at that insult. 'You think me brutal but the universe is brutal. We fight and kill for any reason. To expand our dominion across the stars. If those too weak cannot keep up then they deserve to be left in the ash, dust and the cold. Upon Fenris the sickly were left for the wolves to take. Me and mine have simply brought that practice to a farther reach. It is the nature of our father's plan.'
'It is not.' Retorted Angron shaking his head. 'We fight for the Imperium to carve out a paradise for Mankind. Ideals, hnnh, is what we were made to build. My sons will bellow and cry to the night sky upon the eve of victory. Alongside them the mortals drink and sing with them. That is what we fight for. Not for a universe for only the select few. A universe for all souls that cry for freedom.'
Russ laughed. 'Freedom? What would you know of freedom, dog? We take children from their mother's arms on the grounds of tithe. That word does not sound similar to you?'
Angron's brow creased. 'You are so wrapped up in your own bitterness. You call my sons savages and yet each day does not see them spiral further and further into the barbarism that we seek to end. You bring up my past and failings as flaws but they are not. They are definitions. That is why my sons took the pain and why I refused to have them control me.'
The tension grew as the two primarchs faced one another. How was it that the broken gladiator was a far more regal figure than that of the blond-maned giant? How had Russ fallen so low? Angron could only despair at the sight of him but hoped that this lesson would help. If it was to come to blades, Khârn and his Astartes were to establish a cordon around him – to show Russ what loyalty and brotherhood really were. History would never know the name of the legionnaire that fired the first shot. All that would be remembered afterwards was the fight that followed. The Night of the Wolf. The clash of two legions. A bitter lesson was meant to be taught that day, but it went unheeded. It is a mistake that Angron would curse for the rest of his life.
When it came to Ullanor, it was said that Angron was greatly displeased to miss the conflict. He would have liked to test himself against the brutal prowess of the Orks. Furthermore, he was surprised as many of his brothers to hear that the Emperor was leaving the forefront of the Great Crusade. Though Angron didn't care much for the choice of Horus; he couldn't deny that it was a sound one. He was said to have laughed when he heard of the reactions of Dorn and Guilliman, pointing out that such an attitude was why they were not chosen for Warmaster. Yet other than that he made little to no comment on the change in the Great Crusade. As with Angron he kept his opinions to himself – or simply didn't care. Horus was chosen by the Master of Mankind and as far as Angron was concerned that was that.
Khârn, Equerry of the Red Sands
Within the Heresy a great many heroes rose to fight off the yoke of Chaos that came to drown the Imperium and fight alongside their fathers. One such example would be Captain Khârn of the Eight Company. Born upon Terra among the frosty fields of Europa and taken under the wing of Lhorke, Legion Master of the War Hounds. It was through him that Khârn rose to such dangerous martial prowess. Despite his loyalty to his gene-father, Khârn was apprehensive of Lhorke's decision to disobey the Emperor's order. Though when he reached Nuceria and saw what would have become of his father if they did nothing, that changed his heart. He was among the number to first fight alongside Angron and it is his slaying of one of the great slaver-kings of Nuceria that led to Angron's choice to make him equerry. A speaker of Angron's word.
Khârn was a magnificent warrior, one of the great Astartes warriors that rose during the Great Crusade; such the likes of Sigismund of the Imperial Fists, or Sevatar of the Night Lords. He had a magnetic personality that led to many of his brothers looking up to him and while it fell to Angron to keep his brothers in line, it fell to Khârn to do the same to the proud World Eaters such as Delvarus, who had left the ship he was meant to guard for personal glory. Khârn instead had him shamed in the Pits where he swore to keep to his duty, which he did until his last breath during the Siege.
As for Khârn's own demise. That came upon the planet of Skahlathrax, a brutal battle if the World Eaters ever saw one. A titanic three-way battle between the World Eaters and warbands of Dark Angels and Iron Hands. The World Eaters were outnumbered by a massive degree but the traitor forces fell upon each other as much as they did the World Eaters. It was said that Khârn fell fighting the two dread warlords, one of which was upon the cusp of daemonhood: a worthy death for the Equerry of the Red Sands.
Upon his death Khârn was granted sainthood in the Imperial Cult for his legacy and his deeds. His crypt has since become a shrine upon the Throneworld itself. A great many pilgrims come to see the stasis-preserved body of the Equerry of the Red Sands. The World Eaters themselves rarely visit the crypt though many of them are encouraged to read Khârn's own personal writings from his time among the World Eaters which begins at the retrieval of ANgron and ends upon him leaving for Skalathrax, a form of manifesto for the XII.
The Heresy: The Threat of Ultramar
"High-riding bastard!"– The recorded first words Angron, Primarch of the Twelfth Legion, was said to have spoken upon learning of the Isstvan Atrocity.
Guilliman's betrayal was a great concern for those loyalists' forces and Legions that had not had their backs broken by the Atrocity. The Five Hundred Worlds provided Sanguinius with a veritable wellspring of weapons and men to throw at the loyalists and it was Horus' fear that with Guilliman's betrayal that Ultramar will follow him into damnation. A Chaos-corrupted Ultramar would easily help the Angel Fallen and the Unholy Nine to crush the Resolute Ones. And so, Horus drew up his plans to have two of the Legions unaffected by the Atrocity to keep Ultramar off the board.
Lorgar of the Word Bearers and Angron of the World Eaters were chosen for this reason. Lorgar was eager to prosecute a war against the forces of Chaos, it was calling after all. Furthermore, it was said he was even more eager to fight alongside Angron and his sons, calling them the pinnacle of Astartes. Angron found such obvious brotherly affection unusual and as always dealt with it in his taciturn way. Lorgar was said to have smiled at that.
Horus knew that the Five Hundred Worlds were infested with the growing powers of Chaos and hoped that Lorgar's sons would be able to fight off the spiritual threats while Angron and his sons fought with the martial prowess that led to their notoriety. Furthermore, Lorgar, ever a pragmatic soul, seemed to have been prepared for this rebellion longer than any of the Emperor's sons and had three great king-ships to spearhead the Imperial fleet, though he only took two of them with him to Ultramar, leaving the Trisagion to patrol the Throneworld and bolster the faith of those upon Terra.
And so, the two Legions marshalled to wage war upon Ultramar. A muster of which the likes have not truly seen. Two Legions, their Legio allies and their mortals units ready to wage a war against the greatest kingdom to be found in the Imperium. To the World Eaters this was the pinnacle of war – unaware that even now Guilliman was making his own to ensure the mobilisation of Ultramar.
'The darkness falls over our land
The wind sings, the earth trembles
The enemy is at our gates
Ready to subjugate us now'
–Ghul'kaesh – or the Litany of Calth – an ancient war-song of the World Eaters, inspired by the War for Ultramar.
Ultramar's sheer size acted as the greatest obstacle to the two Legions. It was such a vast realm how does one prosecute a war against it? This was something of a heated debate between Lorgar and Angron. Angron longed for total annihilation of Ultramar. Though Lorgar could tell these were the Butcher's Nails talking and not his brother, Lorgar argued that Ultramar was not to be destroyed but purged. There were still Throne-loyal souls that cried out for the light of the Emperor – a light Lorgar had every intention of bringing. Furthermore, the disagreement of what worlds to target became something of increasing concern for the two brothers. Ultramar's size was vast; a behemoth of an empire that none knew how best to cripple it.
Angron argued for Macragge, the heart of the Five Hundred Worlds but Lorgar disagreed. While not stranger to the power of symbols, Lorgar argued that they needed something more crushing than the capital of Ultramar, they needed something greater to ensure the end of the Five Hundred Worlds. It was Calth that Lorgar argued needed to be brought to heel, the muster point of the Ultramarines and one of their great pillars that held up the Five Hundred Worlds. Angron conceded though grudgingly.
Little did they know that this was part of a scheme of Guilliman and Sanguinius, to take two Legions out of the game. Calth was to serve as the birthplace of a great warpstorm that would see the Ultramarines and Guilliman rise in the eyes of the Dark Gods – at least that was what Sanguinius assured. Guilliman left command of Calth to tetrarch Eikos Lamiad while he made other preparations – all of this still unaware to the two loyal primarchs.
So, when the two Legions came to burn Calth the battle was monstrously one-sided. The two Legions fought in dangerous synchronicity that shocked even the prepared Ultramarines. Meanwhile the great fleets burned any form of orbital defence that the Ultramarines could have even mustered. It was only when the XII and XVII waged war upon the surface did they realise that all that they did was in the traitors' favour. Guilliman intended to keep them in hell, the Avenging Son was one of the mightiest of the Primarchs and Sanguinius believed, that with the powers of Chaos by his side, he would easily be able to kill the two loyalist primarchs and their respective gene-lines.
Only too late did Lorgar realise the folly of their actions as Calith acted as a beacon to the Warp, bringing forth Samus, an ancient and powerful daemon and his daemon hordes. Trapped, Lorgar and Angron ordered their forces off world, Lorgar himself slaying Samus – one battle of many to come. Though the World Eaters and Word Bearers were trapped in a hell of reality. Both Angron and Lorgar debated what to do, Lorgar argued that they must try and flee but that meant going to one world Angron refused: Nuceria. Angron tried to move himself free by arguing that they were ordered to bring Ultramar to heel. Though as both Khârn and Lorgar pointed out, that was something of a moot point now due to Guilliman's actions.
And so the Loyalist Legions descended on Nuceria, the one world that seemed untouched by the tide of Chaos that was infesting the Five Hundred Worlds. It was here that the World Eaters and Word Bearers knew they could break free and make their way to Terra to defend the Cradle of Mankind. Guilliman knew this too. He knew that this was the knife's edge. If he could trap and kill Lorgar and Angron here, he could change the course of the Heresy. Angron conducted a plan that was so insane that Lorgar began to question whether the Nails had at long last robbed his brother of his senses. Angron wished to have Guilliman and his forces try and dig out the two Legions. A recreation of what happened upon Isstvan. Lorgar knew that it went deeper than just that however. For Angron, this was a chance to exorcise an old sin and an old pain. Here Angron would face his daemons - imagined and real - and perhaps find himself whole again.
So the World Eaters returned to their father's world. And found themselves disgusted by what they found. Angron never truly spoke of his homeworld, not even to those sons closest to him. As such it came across as a bitter surprise to see how a broken world Nuceria truly was.
"Hghn, how could you fall so low? Where is the, hnnh, courage and honour you scream of? My people carved my brain open, they called me slave while yours proclaimed you prince. I was left with the broken and the dejected to fight and kill. And there I found men and women forever hopeful of a better tomorrow. You cannot understand that will, that strength of character. How could you? Your world pampered and spoiled you while mine hardened me. My sons carved themselves open to share the burden of my pain while yours tear each other apart for uncaring monsters. Which one of us fell to our vices and became a slave? Which one of us rose above ourselves, hnnh, and refused to let our rage control us? Courage is to stand in face of the universe's corruption, to hear recognise the beast within and yet to deny it for you know it is wrong. You know nothing of that courage! Honour is standing with your brothers side by side as you help build a utopia free of corruption, of human vice. You know nothing of honour!" - Quote alleged tribute to Angron to the Traitor Primarch Roboute Gulliman.
Siege of Terra: Tyranny's Downfall
Freed from the Shadow Crusade the wounded Legions made their way to Terra with the forces of the Ultramarines already en-route and in orbit via warp tactics. Lorgar and Angron both feared that they would reach the battle for Mankind's soul far too late. And so Angron turned to Lorgar and his sons for the route to Terra. They were forced to likewise follow the Ultramarines through the bowels of the Warp.
Such a path was filled with danger. The forces of Chaos knew of the two Legions coming and so sent their best, including a reborn Samus, to thwart the efforts of the Legions. But Angron's World Eaters and Lorgar's Word Bearers had learned one thing during the Shadow Crusade and that was to slay daemons. Angron himself killed Samus, sending the Prince of the Ruinstorm back into the Warp once more. And in doing so the loyalists were able to join with Fulgrim for the Siege of Terra.
The wounded World Eaters and bitter Word Bearers threw their heart and souls into that battle for it was the battle to decide the fate of Mankind itself. Among the killing fields the World Eaters fought against the maddening Dark Angels as they hunted civilians or clashed against the blood mad Iron Hands. They brought with them the scorched and dying Legio Audex which spent its last battle hunting down the great Imperator titan the Corinthian and even brought that titanic daemon-engine to its knees. A song still sung by the World Eaters to this day. While Fulgrim hunted Guilliman both Lorgar and Angron sped to the Palace to stop Sanguinius efforts to kill the Emperor.
As for Angron and Lorgar, they left the command of their Legions to their loyal sons and hastened to the Imperial Palace. Sanguinius intended to kill their father and that would not be allowed. Angron, for once in his life, allowed the Butcher's Nails to flow, fully giving him all its rage-induced strength as he carved a path to the Imperial Palace through the forces of Sanguinius. It was there that Angron came face to face with the one primarch who's rage equaled his own, Ferrus Manus. The fight between these two demigods was like the clash of giants as Angron's axes clashed with Manus' hammer but in the end, Ferrus was forced to leave and Angron collapsed, exhausted, the Nails sapping it all from him. Lorgar was said to have found him and cradled his wounded brother, using his gift to allow him to rest proper and true. A bitter reward for a bitter soul.
While the Heresy was won the cost was still great: the Emperor had been placed upon the Throne and the Imperium lay scattered. It fell to the World Eaters to act as humanity's defenders once again for their martial prowess was needed now more than ever.
Post-Heresy: Ullanor Rising
Like all the Primarchs of the post-Heresy, Angron decided to withdraw from the control of the Imperium and instead decided it was time to settle the ghosts of his past. A curiosity of Nuceria was that it was not devoured by the Ruinstorm but was rendered lifeless by the energies of the Warp. The World Eaters decided, with grim humour, to face this dark mark of their past head on. The world was made into a stronghold to hold the Ultramarines within their own realm. It was there that Angron remained for many longs' years. It was there he fought Greater Daemons, Daemon Princes and warlords. It is believed that many a Black Crusade was halted by the actions of Angron and the World Eaters. But he was forced to once again resolve himself against a foe that threatened the border of the Imperium and this one from an unlikely place: the Greenskins.
In the years since the Sanguinary Heresy the Imperium grew stagnant and fat. Corruption spread throughout its hierarchy with ease and it made it a weakened goliath. Many among the Imperium believed that Chaos was gone. The xenos were of little threat and the borders had been established. That is why it came as a great surprise when the Orks rose and with them brought such weapons to bear that they threatened Terra itself. None can say where this advance in the Orks came from. But one thing can be assured. They were led by the greatest warboss seen since the Beast of Ullanor. This creature had a dangerous strategic acumen that easily crushed many of the Imperial commanders. Worse still were the great planet-killers the Orks possessed. Metal moons that would tear apart a planet's crust with gravity alone. Worse still, one loomed over Terra itself.
Angron, not one to forgo his duty, led his sons to war against the Orks with the aid of his few remaining brothers. And while the attack moons were destroyed, the horde of Orks seemed unstoppable. Only by removing the head from the serpent would they be stopped. Which meant that the crusade had to attack Ullanor and kill the Beast. A great force of Imperials, Astares and Legio Titans attacked the world of Ullanor. Ork giants were waiting for them, the elite of their bestial kind. That and their great gargants which tore at the forces of the Legio. But Angron was undaunted. He led a force into the heart of Ullanor and confronted the Beast himself.
None can say what happened in that chamber for those who entered none left. What could be said was that the chamber itself collapsed in on itself dragging the fortress into oblivion. Of Angron there was no sign of his survival. But his sons still remain true to themselves and believe their gladiator-king will return to lead them to war once again.
Lheor Firefist, Speaker of the Legion
The World Eaters are one of the few Legions that rejected the idea of a Legion Master. Given their spontaneous nature and ability to seemingly bounce back from any destruction, the World Eaters opted to create the station of Speaker of the Legion. A Legion Master in all but name. A Speaker of the Legion often acts a de-facto ruler of the World Eaters, leading them from their seat of power upon Nuceria – much to the disappointment of any who get the title. As such many World Eaters avoid it if they can but it is inevitable for a Legion that strives for such martial greatness that anyone of their number could be picked to bear the mantle of leadership.
The current holder of that title is Lheor Firefist – a name the Speaker of the Legion despises – and like many of his predecessors he earned it through bloody combat upon the fields of war. Lheor's legacy is one of heroism and bravery. He is one of the few Space Marines that can boast of attacking Fabius Bile's own flagship Vesalius when the World Eaters and Emperor's Children joined forces to punish the Clonelord for his sins. While Fabius, as always, skulked away from danger, it was Lheor who slayed the great many beasts that Fabius had bred and even killed Arrian Zorzi, a traitor World Eaters who had thrown his lot in with the Clonelord three-hundred years prior to Lheor's induction into the Twelfth. Lheor's legend does not cease there of course. He also aided in throwing the armies of Marius Gage off of Nuceria when the Three-Faced Prince attempted to escape the Ruinstorm and even fought Pasanius, herald of Uriel Ventris.
It is little surprise that he was picked out among his fellows then to take the duty and title of Speaker of the Legion. Lheor, like many of the XII, is born of the earth. He can be crude and blunt to a massive degree but to be otherwise is a detriment in his eyes. Better you know what you face then listen to lies in his opinion. As for the title of Firefist, that name came to him during the attack upon Nuceria in which an assault bolter blew up, bloodying his fists and setting them on fire. Many of the traitor Ultramarines laughed at the sight, something which ignited the Butcher's Nails to monstrous degree in Lheor who proceeded to pummel them to death with said burning limbs. Despite this, it is an act that the Speaker of the Legion does not think highly of and many often avoid using such a title when within hearing distance of Lheor.
Homeworld
Nuceria is one of the few Legion home worlds that is seen with utter disdain – even by the Legion that inhabit it. Unlike Nostramo it never let go of its cruel past. The wounds were too open for all to see – much to the interest of the Inquisition – and the Worlds Eaters had never expressed any intention of truly fixing the damage done to it. Due to its closeness to the Ruinstorm the World Eaters had all the mortals upon it taken off world and to other colonies of the Twelfth Legion. The only ones that remain on Nuceria now are the World Eaters themselves.
It's many ancient slaver cities have been made into mighty strongholds though the many dead left there are untouched by the World Eaters – due to the fact the corpses are either the remains of Angron's own gladiator-kin or hated slaver foe, as such it is better for such remains to be left untouched. Many Aspirants of the World Eaters have visited Nuceria in their lifetime – either to take up post there or to gain their Butcher's Nails. There they feel the weight of their destiny on them. Many are said to even cry as if the weight of Angron's past crushes down on them.
As warders to the Ruinstorm it is no surprise that the forces of Nuceria are often at odds with the heretical Ultramarines Chapters that attempt to leave the Ruinstorm to savage the Imperium as a whole. These skirmishes are often ruthlessly one-sided in the favour of the World Eaters. Their martial fury often overcomes the Ultramar discipline of the Cursed Thirteenth. Many of the orbital outposts of Nuceria are armed with the infamous Ursus Claws and many traitor warships have found themselves torn apart in the crossfire of those dangerous weapons.
If any Ultramarines survive the attack on Nuceria, Aspirants are often encouraged to hunt down the survivors and bring back trophies as proof of conquest. The Aspirants of the XII will hunt down their corrupted cousins like wolves do a bear and often a group of Aspirants will often bring back a single head as collective proof; often such actions are rewarded for then these Aspirants have found brotherhood in combat.
The Devourers, Champions of the Twelfth
All Legions have a great unit that was born from the Great Crusade, ancient units that once were charged to defend their gene-father's life from any and all threats. The Devourers were once such an example among the World Eaters. Great giants of ceramite, thought to begin with their gene-father scorned them. During the Great Crusade, when the wounds of Nuceria were still fresh, the Lord of Red Sans shunned these sons of his. Angron saw only a bitter reminder of the Kin-Guards of the tyrant-slavers, he felt that only weak men needed other souls to defend and try to encourage his Devourers to leave him be. Stubborn as their gene-father these warriors would not, much to the amusement of Khârn, and they proved their worth to Angron during the War of Calth where if not for their aid, Angron may have been slain in an ambush. Angron realised his folly and began to honour his sons in their deeds. Thus the Devourers found their honour.
With Angron now lost to the World Eaters, the Devourers saw fit to spread themselves across the companies of the World Eaters, pledging their loyalty to other Captains. Many companies were eager to accept the Devourers for their strength and their honour is highly regarded. Never mind the experience one would no doubt gain from following Angron into battle - or at least try too, as it is often joked. Still, all the Devourers feel some wander-lust in them. An urge to try and find their lost father. It has even been said that some do just leave. A curse of the armour it is believed by the superstitious World Eaters, the spirit of Angron calls to his bodyguards. Those strong enough to protect him and to return him home to his awaiting sons.
Like the rest of the World Eaters, the Devourers favour close combat. The great Terminator armour worn by the Devourers insures that they can withstand the greatest of armaments. Worse still, when the Nails kick in and these lumbering giants can turn into ruthless unstoppable juggernauts. The Devours can often be found where the fighting is thickest. Attempting to break the heart of their foes by slaying enemy captains and warlords. Another trophy to hang from their armour and another song to be sung by these great warriors.
Organisation
Ever since the disappearance of Angron during the War of the Beast, the World Eaters have followed the old ways of the War Hounds to restore their Legion. Unlike many, the World Eaters did not have a Legion Master following Angron's disappearance so they created the Speaker of the Legion, a de facto Legion Master in all ways but name. The Speaker is often picked out of the senior Captains of the Twelfth Legion, though the title is an unwelcome one as they are often forced to remain stationed upon Nuceria while their brothers wage war elsewhere.
As for the World Eaters themselves they are split into many different companies of various sizes. Some of these companies can be great armies while others barely a squadron of Astartes. These companies often fluctuate on the matter, size and the type of warfare to be fought. This organisation is something the other Legions such as the Iron Warriors find dangerous, often seeing this lack of centralisation and structure as the undoing of the World Eaters. As for the World Eaters they adapt to these fluctuations with ease, and it is common for new companies to be formed out of the remains of two ravaged ones. Such as the company of Captain Vorag, who's own company was formed from the remnants of three companies devastated in battle from Dark Angels, not one to take defeat likely Vorag merged his company and that of the other two battered and leaderless companies of the now deceased Captain Martok and Felgh and quickly hunted down the traitors. Since then Vorag's company has become masters of void-warfare and few dare contest him in the void now.
This is but one example of the World Eaters companies forming and reforming. While dangerous it can also be said that the World Eaters are one of the few Legions not to regress but instead advance – albeit in a primitive manner. Despite their beginning in chains the World Eaters seem to be one of the few Legions aware of the chains of tradition that bind them, the World Eaters do not wish to find themselves trapped within one area or other of warfare. Something which has made them a most dangerous force to cross.
Combat Doctrine
'Rip and Tear their broken bones!
Tear them apart with no surrender!
Rip and Tear their broken hearts!
Tear them apart for they are lost!'
–World Eater battle-dirge Eg'Gradesha – or Hymn of Battle in High Gothic.
The World Eaters are the heirs of the Nucerian gladiator pits and as such favour the way of close combat in warfare above all others. The World Eaters have often been seen to have the most strength among the Loyal Legions – something in their gene-seed seems to prompt such growth. And as such the sons of Angron make the best use of this natural power by ruthlessly changing their foes to engage them in blade to blade. When it is a war of just Astartes the World Eaters are like a thunderbolt, charging their forces into the fray and breaking the foe under a tide of steel. No fine duellists can be found among the XII, they favour a more brutal form of combat however.
When fighting among mortals however, the World Eaters ensure that their 'little cousins' as they put it are properly supported by their own. These battle-plans harken back to the earliest days of the Legion when Angron's mortal gladiators fought side by side with the World Eaters for the first time against tyranny. Oddly, many of the mortal units often do not need to be told – as if they had already been drilled on such matters, but perhaps that might simply be due to the reassuring presence of the World Eaters.
Despite this the World Eaters never impose their authority more than needed. Many times, an Imperial Guard commander has found – to his shock – a regiment of World Eaters that has come to his aid to bow to his will. Often the assumption is the other way around but the World Eaters are more than willing to bow to the authority of a mortal commander – another sign of their humility.
That said, there have been dangerous cases of the divisions of the Guard almost spilling over to the World Eaters. Especially given the Guard's tendency to have clashes routed in a class-structured system – something which angers the World Eaters. One obvious example is the change in leadership during the Sabbat Crusade where when the glorious Warmaster Nazybar fell and was succeeded by the 'low-born' Urlock Gaur the Crusade almost fell in on itself when World Eater support attempt to 'rectify' those Lord Generals that insulted the newly-appointed Warmaster. Rumour even has it that it took the aid of the Word Bearers – a legion close to the XII – to soothe the tempers on the matter and show that Warmaster Gaur had the favour of the Emperor.
Among the Space Marine Legions, the World Eaters are often said to have the best knowledge of how to combat daemons of the Warp barring the Grey Knights. The knowledge gained from the war within Ultramar is a closely guarded secret and only shared with the Word Bearers. Even the Inquisition has failed to gain this knowledge from the XII – no doubt due to the World Eaters intense dislike of them. Many say that it's due to their favour of close combat that the World Eaters make for such successful exterminators of Neverborn and that due to the age of daemons the only way to fully harm them is in the ancient forms of combat that the World Eaters venerate. A theory that has gained traction when cross-referenced with the beliefs of the Custodes – the Emperor's own guard.
Beliefs
Nagrakali, the Slave-Tongue
Like all Legions recruiting from more than a single homeworld, a common tongue is required by the World Eaters to accommodate Aspirants from dozens of worlds and backgrounds. Nagrakali, or the Dogs-Tongue, is a base language of guttural expressions that is spoken among the sons of Angron. A language formed from Angron's days in the Pit is both unsubtle in its meaning and yet somewhat poetical in a brutal manner.
The Ordo Dialogus has long considered Nagrakali a fascinating thing, as unlike most Legion dialects it is one of constant evolution and adaptation. Much like the World Eaters themselves. As the World Eaters lack a world of origin it can often be can and inflected by those Aspirants taken from a variety of different worlds. There was no word for tiger among the World Eaters until Aspirant of the jungle world of Tyos IV were brought into the Legion for example. Like the World Eaters Nagrakali is a constant change in an otherwise stagnant universe and another example that despite their brutish and violent exterior there is a base philosophy among the gladiator kin of the World Eaters.
The World Eaters are a scarred legion. One worn down by a history of fighting the most ruthless battles in the history of the Imperium. Despite this they believe that there is a meaning to be found in combat and long to honour the legacy of Angron. The Red Angel was the epitome and the lowest of the primarchs; a great king hampered by the tragedy of his home world. Unlike the likes of Manus and Dorn, Angron managed to temper himself and so the World Eaters long to follow his example.
The Butcher's Nails are the open sin of the World Eaters. Each of them uses these technologies to connect with their primarch. All sons of Angron feel connected to his rage and to his tragedy and like him strive to be better than it. It humbles them and allows them to see past themselves. The Butcher's Nails allow the World Eaters to remember and tame themselves. To further support the Imperium in its time of need. Often when training in combat the World Eaters will attempt to prod their fellows into giving into the Butcher's Nails, some view this as a sign of their madness but in truth to the World Eaters it is more a sign of camaraderie – though one that exceeds the limits of mortal ideas of humour.
To the World Eaters the Emperor of Mankind is the ultimate warrior. A great king that managed to unite all corners of the galaxy under His banner, though like Angron they too were troubled by the price of blood that had to be paid. Despite this friction in beliefs the Word Bearers and the World Eaters have enjoyed a close relationship. It is odd to see two Legions having a bond so close given the breaking of many fellowships during the Heresy; even more so given the great gulf of differences between the XII and XVII. And yet, the bond made during the Shadow Crusade has not yet faded. A miracle in and of itself in the trying times of late M41.
Recruitment and Gene-seed
By their very nature the World Eaters are diverse. Their entire legacy and history revolve around warriors of all ethnicities to unite as equals. As such the World Eaters boast the most varied among the Legions – save for the Word Bearers. Many Aspirants are taken from a variety of worlds under their jurisdiction. Nuceria provides nothing for the World Eaters in terms of Aspirants which has forced their hand in taking Aspirants from many other worlds. A reflection of the World Eaters birth on Terra where in which many Aspirants were taken from all the kingdoms of Old Terra.
Given their rough attitude the World Eaters are not nearly as proud as the other Legions when it comes to requirement. Prince or pauper will be treated with equal respect if they long for Ascension. Following such a regime when it comes to picking their aspirants has allowed the World Eaters to flourish, despite their love of close-combat. Of course, once the Aspirants rise to legionnaire they are given the Butcher's Nails, the sin of the Twelfth Legion. Despite the nature of this dark piece of technology, rarely do Aspirants die in such surgery though they do come out changed.
When it comes to the matter of gene-seed, the World Eaters are blessed among the Legions due to having the most viable gene-seed stocks. It is indeed rare for rejection of Angron's own gene-seed. The reasons as to why though are unknown – only the Emperor could give an answer to such a question. Some theorise that the World Eaters gene-seed has a built-in resistance to mutation due to the War of Ultramar. If this is truth or a flight of fancy none can say, after all why look down on such a gift.
Battle-Cry
The World Eaters are an exuberant Legion when it comes to combat and that is reflected in their cries to battle as they march to war. Often battle-dirge or old songs from the gladiator past of Nuceria. Often, they encourage the mortal forces that fight alongside them to join in their songs to help bolster the morale. When not indulging their past the World Eaters can often be heard crying: 'We are the Eaters of Worlds!' or 'Today is your humbling!' or 'Rip and Tear!' When faced with the Ultramarines of the Unholy Nine the World Eaters can often be heard roaring: 'You will fail, high-riders!'
A/N: Hello again, everyone! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter and I can only apologise for the delay. Between my final year of university, the mess that is job-hunting and this year in general I did not have as much time as I hoped to spare on this story. Still, I hope you enjoy the latest chapter. As always big thanks to Tanner151 for his help in editing and discussion. Please feel free to review and look after yourself!