Chapter 7: Index Astartes- Death Guard


Index Astartes- Death Guard: The Emperor's Exterminators

All Astartes, loyal or traitor, are feared by the common man, but few inspire dread like the Death Guard do. The Fourteenth has remained apart from the rest of their cousin legions since time immemorial, ruthless and proud warriors who can weather any blow. When the legionaries of the Death Guard set their minds to a task, they go about it with single-minded focus. They cannot be reasoned with, they feel no pity or remorse or fear, and they will not stop until their targets are utterly annihilated, regardless of the cost to themselves or their allies. Their primarch Mortarion was never close to the Emperor or loved by his brothers, and many thought he and his legion were destined to be traitors. Yet their loyalty proved more sound than that of more favored legions, and have ceaselessly remained in the Imperium's service. The tides of darkness draw ever closer, and alone and without allies, the XIV Legion are closer than ever to destruction. Their legendary stubbornness may yet prove to be their undoing, but the Death Guard are sure to hold on until the bitter end, no matter the odds.

Origins: The Dusk Raiders

For ten thousand years, the Master of Mankind has ruled over his Imperium, and for ten thousand years have his inexhaustible armies given their oaths and lives in service to their Emperor. From the burnished hosts of the Mechanicum, to the endless serried ranks of the Imperial Guard, to the elite Astartes of the Nine Loyal Legions, countless men and women have given their lives and their deaths for the glory of the Imperium of Man. In return, they share in the brotherhood that comes with serving a higher power, a fraternity between even the mightiest Titan princeps to the basic recruit. Though the Astartes Legions are technically posthuman, many choose to partake in this camaraderie, humbly joining their strength to those below them.

The Fourteenth Legion has never joined this brotherhood. From their inception beneath the mighty Imperial Palace towering over the Himalazian Plateau, the XIV remained apart, even from the other Legiones Astartes. Their initial recruits were taken from the lands of Albia in eastern Europa, a harsh and mountainous land littered with the fortifications and ruins of former civilization that hung over the Adriatic dust-fields. The Albian Clans were a proud people, and had only reluctantly bent the knee to the Emperor, resisting his domination with the same dogged resistance that had seen them throw off the yokes of many would-be rulers before. To subvert any future rebellions, their best and brightest sons were inducted into the ranks of the Astartes, removing any potential threat by turning the martial might of a former enemy into loyal soldiers.

These recruits formed the heart of the XIV Legion, taciturn and dogged in all things, including their loyalty to the Emperor. They soon became renowned for their tenacity, holding their positions to the last man, no matter the odds; only the XVIII could come close to rivaling them. Their physiology seemed particularly suited for close-range and attrition-based warfare, wading into the heart of combat as they shrugged off wounds that would slay others outright. Their tactics were as simple and straightforward as their armor, which remained stone gray save for a blood-red right arm, symbolizing their status as the Emperor's right hand. The legion gained its epithet 'Dusk Raiders' from their preferred method of waging war: they would issue an ultimatum at dawn, and wait just outside of the enemy's range. Throughout the day they would wait as unmoving as statues as the setting sun threw their shadows ever closer over the course of the day. Many foes simply gave in to their fear, throwing open their gates and surrendering. For those that didn't, when the gloaming hours of twilight came, the Dusk Raiders would make their move, marching forth relentlessly until only they were left standing.

Mankind's capacity for greatness has always been matched by its capacity for darkness, and the shroud of Old Night still hung heavy over the galaxy, though its time was now at an end. After the successful conclusion of the Unification Wars, the Emperor's light would be brought by his legions across the galaxy in the Great Crusade. To pierce the darkness, a vast beacon was constructed, and the isolated pockets of Man began to believe and hope once more as the light of the Astronomican shone for the first time. The dawn had come once again, and with their path now illuminated, the Emperor's armies launched in all directions, the unstoppable legions uniting the disparate colonies into a united whole. Yet Old Night had left many places unsalvageable, the Astronomican illuminating horrific monsters which had flourished in the dark, and thus the Dusk Raiders found their talents put to good use. For nearly a century, they carried out and perfected the art of extermination campaigns against foes too wicked or too stubborn to be allowed to live in Humanity's galaxy. The Dusk Raiders proved especially adept at fighting xenos, especially orks, and their relentless advance put many greenskin hordes to flight. Their victories left few witnesses in their wake, and so the legion began to slip into obscurity. Despite this, the XIV did not mind, for service to the Emperor was honor enough. The legion recognized theirs was a breed apart, meant to fight the wars no others could, and to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. This aspect would not last, however, after they were reunited with their primarch.

The Death Lord

The outer reaches of the galaxy, no matter which side they lay on, seem to be a breeding ground for horrors. From the haunted Halo Stars to the lightless Jericho Reach, the planets that lay within the Astronomican's peripheries are most commonly the domains of monsters. It is no wonder when the Primarchs were scattered, hurled beyond the Emperor's grasp, so many of them landed on these outskirts. Pod XIV was no exception to this, sent far to the galactic south to a lonely system lit by a dim yellow sun. Little is known of this world, and the only information comes from a document known as the Stygian Scrolls. These scrolls give us little, but what they say paints a grim picture. The baleful world known as Barbarus lies contained within a nebula, a planet bleak and unforgiving, covered in bottomless swamps and featureless moors. Breaking up this landscape are jagged mountain ranges, whose peaks are shrouded in mist and haze. While many primarchs faced incredible adversity on their homeworlds, no others lived on a world where the very air was toxic. It is unknown if these fogs were natural or artificial, but what is certain is they were incredibly toxic, and most humans were forced to live in the valleys, eking out a meager feudal existence. Yet the mists were the least of the human population's concerns, for they were not alone.

The people of Barbarus knew they had not always lived there. Most societies call their homeworld a derivation of ground or earth, yet the very name of Barbarus was proof that they were aware of things beyond their world. No, the pitiful people of Barbarus were grimly aware, for hidden within the mighty mountain peaks of Barbarus were citadels inhabited by monstrous creatures known as the Pale Kings. Whether originally of the Warp or of some nightmarish xenos extract, the Pale Kings were powerful sorcerers, their hideous bovine faces chanting abominable spells that raised the dead as thralls known only as the Pale. These Overlords fought each other for dominance of the mountain ranges with armies of the dead, occasionally raiding the human villages in order to use their corpses in their pointless conflicts. It was into the domain of the most powerful Pale King, a witch-lord known as Necare, that Pod XIV crashed. Nobody can say why the xenos spared the inhabitant of the pod, but Necare took the boy in, naming him Mortarion, the child of death.

Mortarion grew up in the silent and lifeless halls of Necare, alone save for the Pale King who cared for him. The primarch was forced to wear a gas mask at all times, for the toxins were especially potent at such heights, though Necare's true domain lay several kilometers higher up the mountain, shrouded in fogs even Mortarion's transhuman physiology could not survive. He grew much quicker than other humans, becoming a man in only a few short years, tall and gaunt. Such growth alarmed Necare, and he banished Mortarion, sending him down the mountain pursued by horrific flesh-golems. The primarch slew every creature sent after him, and in his travels, discovered Barbarus was populated by more than just he and Necare.

Mortarion discovered an entire civilization, grim and superstitious farming communities. The pale sun hardly reached down here, and to make a mistake could spell famine for the entire village. Thus the people were obsessed with numerology, instinctually tracking dates within their heads, even using it to overcome their fear whenever a Pale King should pass by one of their towns. It was by accident Mortarion won their trust, for when he slew one of Necare's relentless pursuers, the farmers acclaimed him as their king. The Primarch refused such an honor, stating that he would never bear such a burden, yet found leadership thrust upon him all the same, for the people were truly desperate. Whether out of pity or self-interest, Mortarion agreed to lead these people, and word soon spread to neighboring communities, as well as the domains of the nearby witch-lords.

Armies of the dead soon began to hurl themselves at the beleaguered human settlements, yet under Mortarion's leadership, they were repelled. Even the monstrous Pale Kings could not stand before the Primarch, and he soon became known as the Lord of Death for his incredible prowess in battle. Even after the attacks stopped, Mortarion knew these people would never be safe so long as even a single Pale King survived, and so he began a crusade to purge the world of their influence. One by one, the mountains were reclaimed, the domains of the witch-lords left silent and abandoned on the roofs of the world until only Necare and his allies were left. The first attempt to storm his domain was an abject failure, for even Mortarion's physiology could not withstand the choking clouds at the summit. Thus his forces settled in for a siege, hoping to starve the last of the Pale Kings out.

"It'll never work you know." Mortarion turned to the source of the voice, discovering it to be coming from a tall man with black hair and tanned skin, rare traits on the sun-starved plains of Barbarus.

"What does that mean?" the Death Lord rasped, his voice hissing out from behind his respirator.

"This siege of yours. The xenos up there do not feed like you and I, thus you cannot wait them out. I could help you, if you'd like."

"Be that as it may, there's no other alternative. I have sworn they will fall by my hand alone, and I will never forgive any who attempt to deny me what is mine by right."

"Yes, I can see that. It's ok to rely on others sometimes though. Just something to keep in mind."

Before Mortarion could reply, the man was gone, and nobody in the camp reported ever seeing anyone matching his description. Putting it from his mind, the Death Lord clad himself in the strongest armor he could devise, and marched up the mountain alone. The acidic fog ate at his armor, but as Mortarion slaughtered his way through the few remaining sentinels, it seemed as though the mists were dissipating. Perhaps the Pale King's foul sorcery had run out at last, or maybe another hand was at work… Mortarion cared little either way, and soon came face to face with his foul foster father. From the base of the mountain, his followers waited anxiously, and several hours later, the black gates creaked open. Only Mortarion emerged, but when he did so, he had the severed head of Necare in his possession. When the primarch returned to his tent that night after a celebratory feast, he found the same man there. The mysterious figure revealed himself as Mortarion's true father, the Emperor of Mankind.

Great Crusade: Lords of Silence

The reunion between the Master of Mankind and Mortarion was a terse affair. The two did not fight as some of Mortarion's brothers had when they first met their creator, but neither was it friendly. They spoke long into the night, the primarch acknowledging his father yet rejecting the concept of servitude. It is said the Emperor told Mortarion the name originally planned for him, yet the primarch rejected it, for names were sacred on Barbarus. Whatever the case, the Emperor must have been highly persuasive, for at dawn the next day, Mortarion knelt before his father, and received a legion in return. Despite keeping his own name, Mortarion did not approve of the epithet of Dusk Raiders, for dawn and dusk were concepts foreign to a shrouded world such as Barbarus. Thus the XIV received a new name, for if Mortarion was the Death Lord, so his sons would be the Death Guard.

After reuniting with his sons, Mortarion accompanied the Emperor back to Terra, the harsh atmosphere of the Throneworld reminding him of Barbarus. When other primarchs first arrived on Terra, they most often toured the Palace and other such wonders of the Emperor's creation. Yet Mortarion did not, preferring instead to walk among the common people, the factory workers and serfs struggling to eke out a living in the underhive. However his efforts came to little, for the people of Terra shied away from the gaunt giant, unable to speak from the weight of his presence. Mortarion had a similar experience with his brothers: being the fourteenth found, many looked down on him. The Death Lord could not believe that his brothers were so naive as to be friendly with the Emperor, and it galled him when they dared to imply that their pasts compared to the hardships he had endured. Even those such as Ferrus Manus or Perturabo, who held similar reputations for resilience, were scorned.

Yet it was Magnus the Red whom Mortarion could stand the least. His experiences with the Overlords had left Mortarion with a deep distrust for the psychic, and to Mortarion, the Crimson King was the living embodiment of witchcraft and sorcery. Magnus's arrogance did little to alleviate their differences, and his implication that the Death Lord himself was psychic almost led to a fistfight. This attitude toward the Warp soon became common knowledge, and so the Death Lord found themselves with allies, at least at first. Primarchs such as Angron or even Leman Russ were known for their distrust of the Warp, and so these legions attempted to join their fleets with that of Mortarion's. Yet these never seemed to last. While Horus Lupercal was friendly, Mortarion himself provoked fights with many others of his kin, and within a few years, all had left him.

Having alienated his brothers and rejected his father, Mortarion set out to continue the Great Crusade by himself. The Death Guard had swelled in size after reuniting with their primarch, and soon numbered just over ninety thousand, divided into a number of great companies. Despite his inability to get along with people, Mortarion found the callous Mechanicum to be worthy allies, since they too distrusted psykers and never tried to get him to open up. The XIV began to specialize in the use of terminator armor, which granted them further resilience in the attrition-style warfare they favored. They pioneered the use of Cataphractii armor, along with a host of unique melee weapons such as power scythes and flails to give them the edge in combat. Yet it was the use of destroyer squads that truly set the Death Guard apart.

Destroyer Squads

The Dark Age of Technology gave birth to weapons of all descriptions, most of which were then turned on other humans during the Age of Strife. After the Emperor came to power, he outlawed the use of many of these weapons, especially those concerning artificial intelligence. Yet some of these weapons were too useful to seal away, and so found their way into the hands of the Emperor's warriors. The destroyer squads were those Astartes chosen by the Emperor to leave utter destruction in their wake through the use of phosphex or rad-weaponry.

While undeniably effective, these weapons often took a toll on their users. Destroyer squads were instantly recognizable by their chem-burned and fire-scalded battleplate, and some legions refused to utilize such methods. The XIV was not one of these, and indeed grew to have more than any other, specializing in alchemical and radiation-based weaponry. Their legendary resilience allowed them to withstand the toxic gas, and such squads were acclaimed by the legion for their sacrifice. However, these tactics only led to further shunning, and the Death Guard found themselves drawn into worse and worse conflicts, into the most hellish of warzones with the most lethal conditions.

The legion's first conquest after reuniting with their primarch was a portent of things to come. The Galaspar Cluster was a small empire ruled by a group of autocrats known as the Order, who had subjected their people to industrialized slavery enforced through mass terror and chemical dependency. However, after firing upon Imperial Explorator fleets, they attracted the attention of Mortarion, who despised them for their tyranny. The Death Guard easily broke their defenses, and Mortarion ordered his vessels to ram through every central hive spire. Billions perished as the superstructures came crashing down on top of them, and as the people of Galaspar tried to recover, the XIV landed in force. Marching relentlessly through stubber and lasgun fire, over eleven thousand legionaries took the lower levels by storm. The legion ignored every hail as they unleashed devastating phosphex bombs that burned the retreating mortal soldiers to less than ash. When Imperial reinforcements arrived weeks later, they found every governmental official that had been part of the Order hanging from nooses, and a compliant people ready to accept Imperial rule.

As the years of the Great Crusade ground on, the Death Guard found themselves drawn towards the worst battlefields the galaxy had to offer. Dozens of systems fell to the legion, a line on the galactic map as they spearheaded north relentlessly. Their conquests slowed down around the Maelstrom, whose outlying systems were teeming with orks and other xenos. These experiences only hardened Mortarion's outlook that the galaxy was a cruel place and that his methods were necessary. Thus he brushed off the repeated complaints from Terra that he was leaving too many worlds unusable. It was the Death Guard who perfected the technique of Exterminatus, pioneering the use of Virus Bombs combined with cyclonic torpodoes to sear a planet's surface to rock and burning all the oxygen from the atmosphere. While detrimental to human colonization, the Mechanicum greatly appreciated their work, moving in to establish mining outposts and resource extractors. However, the legion's relentless drive brought them into contact with a horror even they were ill-prepared to face: the dreaded Rangda.

First Rangdan Xenocide

In the year 939.M30, the world of Advex-Mors was invaded by xenos forces of unknown origin. Horrific ships composed of writhing maggots and worm-tendrils that corrupted all they touched impacted into the planet, and soon spread across the world with incredible speed. Necrotic rot spread in their wake, and other worlds soon followed Advex-Mors to destruction. The Imperium dispatched forces of the elite I Legion, led by their primarch Lion El'Jonson, to purge the worlds, but even they were unready, losing over four thousand Astartes in a month. The xenos were eventually purged through the use of relics predating Old Night, and Advex-Mors was classified as the official homeworld of these unknown xenos. They were declared destroyed to sustain morale, though there was no proof of this at all, and the Imperium would pay dearly in the decades to come for not ensuring their foes were truly gone.

Xenos of similar description were encountered in several systems by Death Guard scouting forces, but their destruction proved akin to throwing a rock at a hornet's nest. Across the northern and eastern fringes, vast fleets descended on Imperial expeditions. The vessels were diverse but all uniformly inspiring revulsion in humans, constructs composed of techno-organic columns with pulsing veins and metallic tendrils akin to a jellyfish. Their fungal hides shifted and changed as needed, massive pincers growing out to spear and consume Imperial vessels. Trillions died in the initial wave of what came to be known as the Second Rangdan Xenocide, and the assault was only broken due to the heroic holding action from V and XIX Legion forces in defense of Xana. As the Rangda concentrated their armies towards taking Xana, forces of the Death Guard, along with / =][= FILE DELETED =][= / and the Dark Angels, arrived to break the siege with over 300,000 Astartes. In the aftermath, a further six legions were dispatched to help patrol the frontiers, suppressing rebellious worlds and dealing with outbreaks.

While those legions did so, the Death Guard were tasked with a punitive offensive action. Together, the thr-two legions penetrated deep into Rangda territory, seeking their homeworld. The Death Guard were tasked with advancing along the western flank into such regions as the Graveyard of Worlds and the Halo Stars. They cataloged dozens of new and horrific xenos subspecies, each as diverse as the ships that carried them into battle. It was unknown if these had evolved from the Rangda or were servant species, but they were all ruthlessly exterminated at great cost. Even the legendary resilience of the XIV began to fail as their fleets clashed with the Basemekanic Barques and Slaugth Murderminds, horrific milky-white conglomerates the size of battleships resembling nothing so much as colossal masses of writhing worms that appeared from strange rifts in space with little notice. The mere touch of their hulls or weapons were incredibly corrosive, unnaturally rotting even the adamantium hulls of spacecraft so that even in victory, the legion was left with unusable ships. Titan legions clashed with Macrobeests, writhing abominations whose descriptions varied as much as their ships. Little records survive of these encounters, for the survivors were sworn to secrecy. It was the Death Guard who pioneered the use of psycho-indoctrination, enabling their new recruits to keep fighting despite the obscene monstrosities that they fought on a regular basis, a practice which soon spread to other legions as well.

Yet it was their corruptive influence that truly infuriated the Death Guard. Not content to simply kill the humans they encountered, the Rangda's cruel technology allowed them to puppet the populations of entire worlds, subjugating myriad armies of slave-soldiers controlled by fetter-torcs. Some worlds were given over to continent-spanning flesh-farms, filled with huge populations of unwitting hosts whose forms twisted and mutated into horrific vermiculate abominations that threw themselves at the Death Guard. Other corruption was more insidious, shadowy syndicates that posed as traders as they spread tainted supplies. Entire systems once thought loyal rebelled, the brains of their citizens replaced with writhing maggots that hurled themselves on any loyal citizens. Even corpses were unsafe, and it became common practice to burn the dead. As far as Imperial xeno-biologis could tell, the Rangda had evolved from viruses, not the bacteria more common to our galaxy's life, and like a virus, they infected everything they could. It was impossible to tell which strain was the original, or how many times they had mutated, but it mattered not, for such abominations could not be permitted to remain. Regardless of the form of corruption, the Death Guard ground through them all, leaving hundreds of dead worlds in their wake. The legion began to take on a darker character, death becoming almost a religious rite as they fixated on their own mortality. Nobody could be sure when it might be their turn to go, to pay the ultimate price, though the legion was absolutely certain death would not claim their primarch as he survived countless battlefields.

For twenty-five years, the Death Guard repeatedly suffered heavy losses, losing well over eighty thousand legionaries, though they maintained their size with extensive recruiting. The few records that have survived those dark days indicate that for all their efforts and all the horrors they faced, the Fourteenth only faced a portion of the Rangda's many armies, possibly around a third. The Rangdan homeworld was never found, for interrogation was impossible and the distances too great to fully search. Multiple expeditionary fleets, dozens of titan maniples, and entire Astartes legions were lost in this titanic conflict. This was a war not just for survival, but also to determine the success of the Great Crusade, and who would control the galaxy. After decades of unceasing warfare, it took the intervention of the Emperor himself to end the conflict. The Death Guard received word months later that the Master of Mankind had joined the forces of the Dark Angels in the region known as the Cold Abyss, unleashing some sort of weapon to break the Rangda. Thus the Second Rangdan Xenocide came to a bitter end, a pyrrhic victory at best, for the xenos were still out there on the fringes and rims of the galaxy, their homeworld and true strength unknown. However, despite this inconclusive end, the Imperium played up the conflict as though it were an outright victory. Records continued to be censored, the casualty rates altered and hidden away, and the Death Guard returned from the fringes towards the more central sectors of the galaxy. By this time, all of the Emperor's sons had been found, and the legions seemed more powerful than ever. Mortarion had grown more and more self-righteous as the conflict progressed, secure in the knowledge his legion was the only thing saving the Imperium from the horrors in the dark. Though the Emperor might not appreciate him, it did not matter, for this duty was as a badge of honor, showing the indomitable spirit of humanity.

A more familiar foe awaited the Death Guard near the galactic core. While the XIV had fought with the Rangda, other legions had prosecuted the conflict against ever-growing hordes of pernicious greenskins, slowly rooting out their influence at great cost. The sons of Barbarus joined with those of the Luna Wolves and the Imperial Fists, and together the forces of three primarchs chipped away at the last few ork empires within and around Segmentum Solar. At the climactic Battle of Gyros-Thravian, Mortarion himself clashed with the Orkish warboss Gharkul Blackfang, a beast of an ork who was the size of an Imperial Knight and whose boyz were bigger than Astartes. However, after initial successes, the campaign turned against the Imperium. It seemed as though the Warboss was on the verge of doing the impossible, defeating not one but three primarchs in open battle. As Mortarion and his brothers prepared to fight until the bitter end, their salvation arrived as the personal forces of the Emperor arrived. The Master of Mankind slew Blackfang in single combat atop his personal Gargant walker, and his Custodians slew over 100,000 orks at the cost of three of their own.

In the aftermath of this victory, as the legions prepared to move on from the system, Mortarion was approached by the Emperor himself. The Death Lord had begun to resent the Master of Mankind for taking the glory of killing the warboss, and initially refused to see him. Despite this, the Emperor sought out Mortarion, and to his surprise, congratulated him, presenting him with the warboss's head and praising him for all his sacrifices. The Death Lord was touched by this display of humility, seeing the Emperor in a different light for the first time. He saw a new side to his father that day, recognizing the power the Emperor wielded was more of a duty, the responsibility to all humanity. This burden extended to Mortarion himself, and although he would never love his father, he could at least respect him.

Having built a new rapport, Mortarion petitioned the Emperor to do something on the issue of psykers. The Emperor seemed reluctant to commit to any action, but heard out Mortarion's complaints and views, and in the end, promised to rule on the matter when time permitted. His final words to Mortarion were a promise that Mankind would not depend on psykers forever, that the crutch of the Warp would one day no longer be needed. This was more than Mortarion had expected, considering the Emperor himself was a psyker, and so the Death Lord left satisfied. Several months later, he answered the call to attend the Triumph of Ullanor, and stood alongside his brothers and the Emperor overseeing the affair. His grim demeanor began to soften as his sons marched in a place of honor alongside the other legions, recognized at last for their contributions. However, fate is nothing if not cruel, and the honor due his sons was soon snatched away when the Emperor announced that he would be stepping back from the Crusade and appointing Horus Lupercal as Warmaster.

Mortarion never had much use for Horus, seeing him as too close to the Emperor, and this only solidified into dislike with this announcement. The new Warmaster did not know what it meant to suffer, his legion knew not of sacrifice, and so the Death Lord would have nothing to do with him. For the remainder of the Triumph, Mortarion avoided his company, and left soon after. He attempted to return to campaigning, but to his surprise, was approached by Lion El'Jonson. The Primarch of the Dark Angels was probably the brother Mortarion respected the most, for his legion had fought the Rangda as much as the Death Guard had, though never on the same battlefields. The Lion seemed sympathetic, and the two spoke long into the night. Yet this camaraderie soon came to an end when Lion revealed the reason for his absence from Ullanor. The Lord of Caliban revealed his legion had found and destroyed the Rangda homeworld, that he had been engaged for the previous few years in the Third Rangdan Xenocide, which cost him over fifty thousand Astartes. If he sought to impress Mortarion with that information, he was sorely mistaken. The Death Lord bristled at the implication that the Dark Angels had lost more or suffered more than he or his sons had, and the Lion soon left, clearly disappointed and angry.

After the Lion's departure, Mortarion sought out the Emperor, intending to voice his discontent on the direction of the Crusade and about Horus being named Warmaster. Yet the Master of Mankind was nowhere to be found, and instead, Malcador the Sigillite seemed to be expecting him, and quickly forestalled his words. Mortarion had always hated Malcador, a foolish old man with the stink of sorcery about him, but what the Regent of Terra said interested even him. Malcador assured Mortarion his complaints would be addressed, for the Emperor was calling a council, and Mortarion was the first to know. The primarchs would be allowed to speak, him included, and afterwards, the Emperor would rule on the question of the Librarius. Pacified for the time being, Mortarion left Terra without even striking the Regent, and bided his time until the Council. When the time finally came, Mortarion quickly traveled to the site of the Council, a world known as Nikaea, and eagerly awaited his chance to voice his complaints.

The Death Lord's statements were the last of the day, voicing his concerns after the tepid words of Sanguinius, and he was gratified to see the people of the Imperium listen to him for once. He spoke for hours on all the abominable Warp-spawn he and his legion had fought, on just how many of his sons died in agony protecting the rest of the Imperium. In the audience, his brothers seemed more surprised at the passion with which he spoke, for none had ever taken the time to get to know him. On the next day, he was satisfied to see Russ join his condemnation, though this soon turned to anger when the barbarian began to speak. The Wolf Lord filled the chamber with fur-clad savages, with soothsayers and shamans who spoke of their primitive beliefs in broken Gothic. It swiftly became apparent that Russ was turning the argument against them with his superstitious nonsense. Mortarion fumed as Magnus took his turn to speak next, and soon had almost everyone nodding in agreement. Everyone, that is, except the Emperor. Mortarion was filled with a sense of schadenfreude as the Emperor denounced the Crimson King in front of everyone and disbanded the Librarius. Finally, vindication was his.

Heresy: The Buried Dagger

While Mortarion was busy at Nikaea, the Death Guard continued campaigning in his absence. Gathered into a collective, this primary fleet was headed by First Captain Calas Typhon, a Barbaran of ill-repute. Whispers abounded of his past heritage before joining the legion, that he had obtained his position due to the deaths of his superiors during the Xenocides, but regardless of the distrust shown to him by his own brothers, Typhon was nothing if not relentlessly effective and none dared to openly question the primarch's judgment in leaving him in command. In the month or so the Death Lord was away, Typhon managed the legion with skill and effectiveness, even winning the respect of the veteran Terran legionaries, no mean feat. However, when Mortarion returned, his mood had soured as the happiness of Nikaea faded back into his usual state of irritation. The Death Lord dispersed the fleet once more, sending the First Captain away along with most of his sons, keeping only a select few thousand from the Second Great Company along with their commander, his equerry Ignatius Grulgor.

Left to their own devices, many captains were forced to look to the First Captain for guidance, a state of affairs which persisted for nearly ten years. Mortarion had eventually resumed command over most of the legion, but Typhon still remained apart, commanding his own forces far from his primarch. His extensive journeys took him across the galaxy, and he soon gained the nickname of Traveler as the forces under his command operated as a relief force. Typhon's goal was to change the legion's reputation, and to some extent he actually succeeded. He won the approval of the Warmaster through his swift response to Lupercal's request to second some of his forces to the Legion Auxilia, dispatching Captain Nathaniel Garro and his company to represent the Fourteenth in the Warmaster's Legion Auxilia. He even allowed Remembrancers to accompany his fleet, a fact which disgusted his primarch. Mortarion would have despised him even more had he learned of the dreams Typhon was having. Voices in his sleep called out to him: some were nightmarish, unseen creatures of rot and decay promising him eternal life. But others spoke kindly, the voice of children asking him to come to a system called Perditus. He resisted for years, but by 014.M31, he could take it no more, and traveled far to the east, listening to the voice as it guided him through the Dominion of Storms.

The Traveler had lost contact with his father years before, and soon slipped beneath the notice of the wider Imperium. This was made easier by the rise in Warp-storm frequency and intensity. The voice grew stronger the longer he spent within the Dominion of Storms, even to the point Typhon could swear he heard it while awake. After months of travel, the Traveler's fleet came to the Perditus System, a small world captured several decades earlier. Accompanied only by his Grave Warden bodyguard, he descended to the surface of Perditus, discovering a garrison of Iron Hands there, who seemed surprised at his presence. Their leader, Iron Father Midoa, told Typhon this system had been intentionally removed from the archives of the Navigator Houses, for they guarded relics of incredible power. Typhon demanded to see these relic, and with great reluctance, Midoa took him into the garrison's innermost chamber.

"Greetings, Typhon." A servitor made from a young boy bowed in greeting, its epicene voice echoing around a room which should have been incapable of such reverberations. Cables trailed behind the servitor, connected to a black sphere over ten meters in diameter. "I am Tuchulcha."

"Are you the voice that's been speaking to me?" Typhon asked. He felt like he was going mad, and the primarch would surely execute him for this.

"I am. Time is short, Typhon of the Dusk Raiders, we must flee. The minions of the Consumer come for me. They must not unite me with my kin."

"The Consumer? Your kin? What are you talking about?" Typhon demanded. He moved to speak again, but was interrupted by a shout from one of his Grave Warden bodyguards.

"First Captain, a fleet has entered the system. It's the Dark Angels."

The voice of the Tuchulcha begging Typhon to take it with him rang in the Traveler's ears like an unwelcome echo as he returned to the surface. Midoa grumbled at the thought of more visitors, but accompanied Typhon to meet with the representative of the I Legion. A hooded warrior bearing the insignia of a chapter master introduced himself as Alajos, Master of the Ninth Order, who demanded in no uncertain terms the Death Guard and Iron Hands vacate the planet. Though it galled his pride, Typhon knew he was in no position to resist, and so returned to his vessel, the Terminus Est, to plot his next course of action. As Typhon entered the bridge, he felt a jarring shift, as though the ship had just entered the Warp or that he had been teleported. Accompanied by a sinking feeling, Typhon rushed to his quarters, and sure enough, the black sphere was there, merged with the very walls of the ship. The Engine revealed it had taken precautions to escape the Dark Angels, but before Typhon could interrogate it further, warnings began to blare out, for the Dark Angels had begun to attack. The Iron Hands garrison was no more, a plume of smoke visible from orbit showing the Death Guard all they needed to know. The Death Guard were stunned at the sight of a fellow legion turning upon them, but soon shook off their surprise, and the two legion fleets began to battle.

Nikaea, thirteen years earlier

Across the bridge of the Endurance, deck officers averted their gaze and busied themselves, hoping to avoid the ire of the primarch. Mortarion had been in a foul temper for weeks now, ever since the Warmaster's emissary relayed his brother's commands. Horus demanded Mortarion loose his forces against the remaining orks in the outlying systems near the Chondax Cluster, an understandable request. Yet the Death Guard were not to be the main thrust, but a diversionary force to drive the orks towards the waiting Star Hunters within Chondax Primary. Unable to disobey the Warmaster's command, Mortarion took out his frustration upon the next closest targets, his sons, or at least, the sons from Terra. Thus before moving to Chondax, the Death Lord exiled them, sending them to join Typhon where he wouldn't have to think about them. Now with only his true sons, the Astartes recruited from Barbarus, by his side, Mortarion let loose his frustrations against the hapless greenskins. Compared to the Rangda, they died pitifully quickly, though their numbers seemed endless, especially considering this was just one flank. For nearly ten years, the XIV fought the greenskins across a dozen star systems simultaneously. Orks beyond counting swarmed in from light years around to die at the hands of the Extermination Battalions, and the Destroyer Squads became almost legendary for the sheer tally of greenskins they reaped. While events began to play out in the rest of the galaxy, the Death Guard remained isolated and ignored, and few Warrior Lodges ever became rooted within the Fourteenth. Communications became spotty at best as the Warp storms began to intensify and the legion pursued the greenskins into ever more inhospitable regions of space. Mortarion's moods grew ever worse, and his sons began to display the same traits, becoming more obsessive over death as many chose to spend their time locked in their chambers or attending apothecarium seminars, watching the surgeons vivisect orkish prisoners in the hopes of finding new ways of killing them faster. Gothic slipped out of common use as the Barbaran dialect took over, a phenomenon which had occurred during the Second Rangdan Xenocide as well, and so there was an initial disruption in communication when Argonis, an envoy from the Sons of Horus, came to deliver new campaign orders.

The Death Guard were to withdraw from their pursuit of the orks, and locate the V Legion. The forces of Jaghatai had ceased communication with Terra, and although Mortarion wasn't really sure why this was an issue, he nonetheless obeyed the Warmaster's command. Moving his forces further east through the wilderness space between Segmentum Solar and the Golgothan Wastes, the Death Guard started their journey at Ullanor, following the empyreal spoor left by the Star Hunters' large fleet. Over the course of two years, they passed through dozens of systems, each systematically scoured of orkish taint, as evidenced by the abandoned ramshackle structures and derelict space hulks left adrift in the emptiness of the void. Chondax itself proved difficult to reach, the storms throwing off navigation and dimming the light of the Astronomican, but the resilience of the Death Guard let them weather any storm.

After landing upon Chondax Prime, the Death Guard released a beacon, and awaited the arrival of the V Legion. Chondax was a desert world, a barren plain where nothing grew. The light of three suns scorched the white sands into semi-crystalline sandstone, whose caverns were riddled with the scorched remains of greenskin activity in much the same way as the prior worlds had. Mortarion remained secluded in his quarters, only emerging when the crew alerted him to the arrival of the V. The Death Lord descended to the surface of Chondax, accompanied by his Deathshroud bodyguard, and was met by Jaghatai and his keshig attendants.

"Picture it, brother, a galaxy free for the hunters to run wild, nothing ever slowing them down or restraining them. You and I have always been the outriders, join the Lion and reject the Emperor's tyranny." Jaghatai held out a gauntleted hand to Mortarion. The Warhawk of Chemos had changed since the Death Lord had seen him last on Ullanor, his fine-wrought armor closer to white than gray. Yet it was his stench that gave Mortarion pause.

"You must think me a fool, brother, to sit here and swallow your poison. I can smell the blight on you. You and your allies are trafficking in the Warp. The Lion spoke similar words to me years ago; I thought he was attempting a joke, but I see now I was wrong." Mortarion spat. His Deathshroud shifted behind him into a combat posture, while across from them, the snarling lion-helms of the Keshig seemed to move as growls echoed forth.

"You can call us witches all you like, but that doesn't change the fact you're just as psychic as the rest of us. That taint runs deep within us all, placed there by the False Emperor."

"You're going to die screaming, Jaghatai, you and all the other traitors, this I swear."

"Always so dramatic and serious. That's the difference between us: when I make my kills, I am always laughing."

Within a few minutes, the two primarchs were alone in clouds of dust, battling over the corpses of their sons who had died killing each other. Jaghatai was speed incarnate, laughing as he whirled his blades in blurred slashes that cut deep into the Barbaran plate. Yet Mortarion absorbed every blow without complaint, for he was resilience and implacability. His scythe hacked deep chunks from the Khan's unadorned armor. The two demigods were evenly matched, and both began to take deep wounds. Yet such a contest was not in the Khan's favor, for he was an ambush predator not suited for contests of endurance, and so with a mocking bow, he withdrew, teleport flares winking out as Mortarion's scythe slashed through where his brother had stood milliseconds before. With Jaghatai no longer there, Mortarion let loose the anger he had been nursing within himself throughout the fight, furious that his choice had been made for him. Truly fate was the cruelest tyrant of all, for by their treachery, Jaghatai and the Lion had forced him to side with the Emperor.

Mortarion called out to his fleet in orbit, and was soon back on the bridge of his flagship, the Endurance. His mood was grim, darkening as the crew told him of Star Hunter treachery. While the two primarchs had dueled, the V Legion had attacked the XIV fleet, their unnaturally fast ships closing the distance far faster than anticipated to damage the engine decks on the largest vessels. The Gellar Field generators had also taken damage, and even Mortarion dared not enter the Warp without their protection. Thus the XIV remained above Chondax as the crew desperately jury-rigged replacement parts so that they might bring news of this treachery back to Terra. Even when the repairs were completed, the journey was long and difficult. The fleet could not remain in the Warp for extended periods of time, and so were forced to make short jumps. Each transition back into realspace brought the added danger of Star Hunter attacks, who came screaming out of the void to inflict a death by a thousand cuts on the slower Death Guard vessels. It was obvious that the V were toying with them, enjoying the hunt as they played to their strengths. Mortarion remained in his chambers for most of the journey, dwelling on his brother's words. Was it true that the taint lay within him too? For the first time in his life, the Death Lord was paralyzed with indecision, and so command of the fleet remained with the most senior officer on board, Commander Ignatius Grulgor.

Ignatius Grulgor, the Eater of Lives

The Astartes known as Ignatius Grulgor was, like most senior legion commanders, born upon Barbarus, and fought alongside his primarch against the Overlords. He came close to death many times upon that shrouded world, even using his bare teeth to attack a Pale King after his weapon snapped. After the Emperor arrived, he was inducted into the ranks of the Astartes, and rose to command the Second Great Company. Due to First Captain Typhon's extended absence, this meant he was effectively in command of the legion.

Grulgor bore a marked resemblance to his primarch in temperament, cruel and judgmental, especially to Terran legionaries, even those of equal rank such as Nathaniel Garro. He gained his nickname due to his readiness to exterminate non-compliant worlds through the use of the Life-Eater virus, a particularly deadly strain of virus capable of spreading across an entire planet in minutes as it reduces all biological matter to sludge. Unlike most of his brothers, Grulgor enjoyed the retreat from Chondax, considering it his long-awaited moment of glory, and the Second Captain reveled in the thrill of battle as he personally fought off repeated ambushes from Star Hunter boarding teams.

Mortarion's seclusion came to an end with the discovery of a fleet of Space Wolves. The fleet had struggled to push westward against the Warp storms, but had been pushed more south, near the edges of the Prosperine Dominion. Mortarion was certain that Magnus had thrown his lot in with the traitors since he was an inherently untrustworthy psyker, and these suspicions were only confirmed by the words of the Sixth legion commander. Yet reaching Terra remained paramount, and so the legion continued on their path. The Star Hunter attacks began to slow down and eventually stopped as Mortarion's fleet grew larger and larger. Every world they passed yielded supplies and troops as the Death Guard lived off the land, taking the resources they needed often at gunpoint.

It was around the Elysia system where the Death Guard encountered the forces of Horus. The arrogant Warmaster demanded answers, and Mortarion was on the verge of attacking him, for there was no proof Horus wasn't a part of the heresy which had overtaken the other legions. Yet before he could give the order, the Death Lord's mind was violated, the Emperor forcing visions into his mind of some world called Molech. As much as he hated it, Mortarion had little choice but to obey, and the Warmaster's forces soon helped bring his fleet back to battle-readiness. The combined fleets moved northwest toward Molech, and soon engaged the forces of the Ultramarines and Blood Angels, who were already fighting each other. The Death Guard grimly set to work exterminating these traitors, but the one-sided slaughter soon turned into a more even fight with the arrival of a fleet of Dark Angels and Star Hunters. Grulgor was left in command once more, his cruel laughter echoing across the vox-waves as each enemy vessel was shot down in the raging battle engulfing the skies above Molech. Accompanied by this endless rain of debris, Mortarion followed Horus down to the surface, joined by an entire company of terminators. Together, the elite of two legions spearheaded through the pitiful traitors who stood in their way. Mortarion's scythe Silence reaped a bloody toll, and none could stand before him. Or at least, none save Lion El'Jonson.

Witchcraft. It had to be witchcraft. Nothing else could explain how the Lord of the First had defeated both he and the Warmaster within a minute. Mortarion was on all fours, bleeding heavily from a dozen wounds that had slipped past his guard. Even Jaghatai had not been this fast. The Death Lord looked up, defiant to the end, but the expected blade did not fall. Instead, the Lion bent down, picking up the Eye from the Warmaster's chest, as well as, to Mortarion's horror, his gas mask, which had been with him since Barbarus. The Death Lord tried to hold on, but his wounds were too much, and the Lion strode off with his prize, vanishing in a blinding flash, leaving the two brothers alone.

Typhon's Travels: Battle of Baal

The Battle of Perditus had been a stalemate at best. Though outnumbered by the Dark Angels, the Death Guard held on with all their relentless tenacity, and were able to fall back in good order with minimal losses. For three years, Alajos's forces pursued them, Warp-based sorcery enabling them to keep up with the Tuchulcha's pinpoint jumps. Only Typhon knew the true reason for their narrow escapes each time, for he kept the strange device isolated from the rest of the crew. The Engine would not leave him alone, constantly whispering to him no matter what part of the ship he was on, though at least the other voices had stopped.

For three long years, the Death Guard under Typhon's command suffered on their never-ending odyssey. Chased across the galaxy, the XIV took heavy casualties, losing over ten thousand Astartes out of their original 23,000. Morale was dangerously low, for while they had destroyed many Dark Angels in return, the enemy's true losses were unknown, and the legion was not accustomed to being on the defensive. By 017.M30, the fleet lay hidden within the Red Scar sector, deposited out of the Warp by a disused Empyrean Gate into a cursed realm near the northern edge of the Maelstrom. Though the many worlds of this area held valuable resources necessary to repair the fleet, not even the Death Guard felt at ease within the eerie red light from the thousands of nearby stars.

The captains of the Death Guard were of one mind: set course for Terra to find the primarch. Yet Typhon refused them. Though he could not tell them why, the Engine was calling Typhon toward Baal, the homeworld of the treacherous Ninth Legion. The Blood Angels never had much interaction with the Death Guard: though both were assigned to clear out the orks around Chondax, the two legions had remained apart, and Typhon's forces had been nowhere near them regardless. Refusing to risk a mutiny, Typhon asked the forces under his command for volunteers to join him on the Terminus Est, while the rest of the legion would be free to make for Terra. Over three thousand Astartes volunteered, and thus less than a dozen vessels journeyed to bring the Emperor's wrath to those who had turned their backs on him. The Death Guard began to push their way through the outlying systems, relentlessly rolling over the Blood Angels defenses in their way. The heirs of Sanguinius had changed greatly during the Heresy: anger ruled them, a rage that was never far from boiling over. Their tactics matched, and the Death Guard found it gratifyingly easy to lure them into traps.

The legion of old would have simply weathered their fury, but heavy losses had led Typhon's forces to adopt the tactics of other legions. The hit and run tactics of the Star Hunters, the gunlines of the Iron Warriors, and the misdirection of the Alpha Legion: the stratagems of these and many other legions now enabled Typhon's forces to adapt to any foe. Thus it was only a matter of weeks before the Terminus Est assault forces were pushing past the fortress world of Bhelik Alphus and the orbital platforms of Gamma IV to enter the Blood Angels's home system. The small Death Guard fleet swiftly broke the ragtag defensive flotilla protecting the Ninth Legion's homeworld, but as they closed in upon Baal itself, long-range scans picked up signs of an ongoing battle.

"Is this what I was meant to do, Tuchulcha?" Typhon asked softly. Outside the bridge windows, a titanic struggle was raging above the shattered moons of Baal. On one side was a golden behemoth, an armored station the size of a small moon. Phalanx, the proud daughter of Dorn, was firing relentlessly into a much smaller fleet in the smoky gray colors of Space Wolves vessels. Around the system lay debris from dozens of warships, from Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth Legion ships, shattered and ruined. In another lifetime, these three legions had been allies, defending the Imperium against the all the threats the hostile galaxy could throw at them. Now they were just killers.

"Yes, Typhon. My time with you has come to an end. I'm sorry it has to end this way."

"Very well. Typhon to all crew of the Terminus Est, prepare for battle. Only in death does duty end!"

The Terminus Est was a mighty vessel. It had served as Typhon's flagship for well over a century, and had shrugged off countless assaults, its thick hide as resilient as the legion it carried. Even as its escorts died one by one, the battleship bullied its way through the small Seventh Legion vessels, smashing aside its lessers to close with the Phalanx. Despite this, all knew this would be their last voyage. As the guns of Dorn's Daughter flayed the outer hull, Typhon gave the order to detonate the Warp-core, a hero's death for the brave Traveler. A wound ten kilometers in length opened up in the Phalanx, a deadly blow, but not a mortal one to a ship of her size. The Blood Angels fared much worse, their smaller vessels unlucky enough to be close were all sucked into the Warp-rift before it snapped shut. Though the Death Guard were not alive to see it, the Space Wolves took advantage of the commotion to effect their escape, entering the Warp despite not being at the Mandeville points…

Bastion Omega and the Battle of Verzagen

Even as Typhon sacrificed himself for a cause he did not fully understand, the remaining forces under Captain Nathaniel Garro made their way back west, weathering the storms as they headed for Terra. However, without the Tuchulcha to smooth the way, they soon became bogged down, grinding their way at a much slower pace, for the malign powers of the Warp had no wish for the defenders of Bastion Omega to receive reinforcements. Far from this fleet of his sons, Mortarion and the rest of the legion suffered catastrophic casualties as they attempted to slow the traitor's advance. After the humbling experience of Molech, Mortarion and Horus had returned to Terra, meeting with Vulkan, Ferrus, and the other leaders of Terra to plot their next moves. At Mortarion's insistence, the defensive front was split into separate commands, for he had no wish to serve under Horus.

As Leman Russ and Lorgar were nowhere to be found, Mortarion assumed command of the northern front, which stretched from Cypra Mundi to Trisolian. They were assisted in this task by forces of the Space Wolves and Iron Hands, though the bulk of those legions were elsewhere. As barely fifty thousand Astartes remained under his command, Mortarion was forced for the first time since the Xenocides to turn to mortals for aid. Thus billions of Imperial Army troops were funneled into defensible chokepoints, fortress worlds located along the primary Warp routes to Terra on a front stretching nearly thirteen thousand light years in length and about half that deep. The primary threat came from Caliban, dread homeworld of the Dark Angels, but the forces of all traitor legions pressed at the Death Guard and their allies, forcing them back on an ever-shrinking front. Many times the Death Guard would be forced to retreat as their allies suffered casualties too great to hold supporting positions, and so the legion had to give up vital ground or risk being encircled.

Within four years, the Death Guard had been pushed back, leaving nothing but rust and ruin in their wake as the Iron Warriors and Emperor's Children pressed ever closer. Isolated pockets still held out against the traitors such as Fenris and Avellorn, but for the most part, the northern approaches lay in traitor hands. The final line of defense was centered around the planet Verzagen orbiting the red dwarf star Proxima Centauri. Terraformed in M5, the triple star system of Alpha Centauri had long been under humanity's control. The three worlds in the system had been transformed into a staging ground early in the Great Crusade, as it lay on a stable Warp route into the Solar System, and was fortified to a degree rivaled only by the Beta-Garmon Cluster, which protected the eastern approach to Terra. The Imperial forces knew this was their last and best chance to stop the traitors before they entered Sol, and so the Death Guard and Space Wolves gathered for one last desperate roll of the dice to seize the initiative once more. Nearly seventy thousand Astartes stood side by side with billions of Solar Auxilia, alongside the bulk of the remaining Imperial fleet.

First to arrive in the system were the forces of the Star Hunters. Their lightning-fast vanguard fleet tested the Imperial defenses, yet something seemed…off about them. Though they were fast, their maneuvering was sloppy, easily predicted; it was as though they were new to space combat, certainly not like the forces that harassed the Death Guard years earlier. The second wave consisted of the Crimson Fists. Dorn's sons were experts at void warfare, and soon pushed past the blockade to begin landing on the surface of Verzagen, the primary world of the Proxima Centauri system. There they quickly set up siege camps, and a grinding battle of attrition developed on the ground. In space, the Space Wolves had engaged with the Dark Angels, luring them into positions where the hidden Death Guard vessels could engage.

Tomb Ships

It is highly difficult to hide a ship from Imperial sensors. Whether it be life signs or engine reports, auspexes are highly adept at picking up vessels over vast distances. Despite this, it is possible to trick the sensors. One way is to cluster a fleet tightly together, to give off the appearance of a larger object such as a space hulk, similar to the way the Sand Raiders of Kitab ride single-file to hide their numbers. Another way is to utilize scramblers, such as Aeldari holo-fields, which distort a scanner's perception. However, the Death Guard had pioneered their own grim method.

Taking inspiration from some strange metallic xenos destroyed for good early in the Great Crusade, the Death Guard technique of tomb ships involves shutting down all systems, including life support. The ships are left adrift in the dark, invisible in the vastness of space and unremarkable to any auspex sweep, relying on stealth to protect them, for any stray shot could cripple an unshielded ship. When a foe comes too close, the vessels power on, unleashing devastating salvoes into the lighter rear armor of enemy ships.

Many traitors paid the ultimate price as the Death Guard crushed them from all sides. For three months, the Death Guard dragged the conflict out, exasperating the Dark Angels with their disgusting levels of resilience. Across the triple star system, ambushes and counter-ambushes played out as humans and post-humans died all manner of deaths. The legion fought until the bitter end and then some, eternal warriors who seemed to feel no pain, never crying out as they died in all manners of gruesome death. One by one, the three fortress worlds were taken inch by grueling inch, the Crimson Fists siege masters showing their expertise as they overran trenches faster than new ones could be constructed. The Death Guard soon ran out of their bio-weapons, then artillery, then bolt rounds, but still they fought, brawling with their bare hands. None dared touch the Warp-tainted weapons of the traitors though.

But despite their heroic sacrifice, the outcome was never in question. The traitor Astartes outnumbered their loyalist counterparts nearly three to one, and nearly five to one in terms of ships, and so the Death Guard were finally forced to fall back with catastrophic casualties. Barely thirty thousand of the fifty thousand Astartes were able to escape, fleeing as the traitors closed in on Verzagen. Mortarion himself was on the final ship to leave the system, the Endurance taking hundreds of small wounds as it covered the rest of the retreating legion. He had hoped one of his traitor brothers would show themselves, but they never did. The Death Lord had especially desired to fight Jaghatai, but he had never shown up. Dorn's Phalanx had not taken part in the battle, nor had the flagships of the other two legions, a disturbing trend. Still, captured traitors had confirmed what Mortarion had known since Molech: the Lion was the architect of this Heresy. Despite the Warmaster vouching for this fact, many had refused to believe the Lord of the First would be capable of uniting his brothers, citing his lack of charisma. Most of the Council of Terra save perhaps that witch Malcador had suspected Sanguinius or Guilliman to be the true leader, but Verzagen had finally shattered that illusion. Mortarion dwelt on these things as his ships returned to Terra, in preparation for the Solar War. It was time to see if Vulkan's defenses would be enough.

Mortarion towered over the hunched form of the Sigillite, on what even he thought was a fool's errand. He had confronted the old witch after returning from Verzagen. Even years later, Jaghatai's words still burned in his mind, and his patience, or, as he feared, his mental resilience, had come to an end.

"Is it true, old man? Are we nothing more than Warp-golems, slaves and tools for the Tyrant of Tyrants?" He demanded. Malcador gave a noncommittal shrug.

"That is one way of looking at it. Were you another of your brothers, I would tell you that the Emperor loves you. But that would not sway one such as you. The truth is you are as your father designed you, Mortarion. You were always to be an outsider, resilient and unyielding in the face of tyranny. Had the Emperor's designs succeeded, you were a failsafe, the one son who could be counted on not to be dazzled by the brilliance of Revelation."

"He never appreciated me, he never thought I could do what needed to be done. How am I supposed to be a failsafe if I was on the fringes throughout the Crusade?" Mortarion complained. "And you did not answer my first question."

"You are a creature of the Warp, yes. Meant to be a tool. But not all plans stay the same as they unfold. You are very important to the Emperor's designs, but the role you choose to play is your own, Death Lord. Remember that, when you stand before him again." Mortarion grumbled at these platitudes, but before he could reply, the Regent continued. "Now speaking of the Warp and the Emperor's designs, tell me, what do you know about Titan?"

The Elysian and Raven's Gates: The Siege of Terra

The Fourteenth Legion had never been numerous, and scarcely a third of the Death Guard had survived the previous seven years of relentless warfare. Of the four legions with primarchs present to defend the homeworld, Mortarion's sons were by far the smallest in number. Nonetheless, they remained grimly resolved to do their duty, to fight and die in the name of an Emperor they did not love and an Imperium only now at the end beginning to appreciate them. The legion fleet was similarly mauled, and barely a hundred vessels remained, gathered around the gas giant Uranus as the bulk of Vulkan's Second Sphere forces. Despite being further into the Solar System, Uranus was expected to come under assault at the same time as Pluto, for both worlds were home to the primary Warp Gates in and out of the system. Technically the traitors could arrive from anywhere, for there are theoretically infinite Mandeville Points as space is three-dimensional, but the two major gates were unique, relics from the Dark Age of Technology that made it possible for vessels to exit the Warp more quickly and in greater numbers than would otherwise be safe to allow.

Thus the Fourteenth waited for the traitors to arrive, and they did not disappoint. On the First of Primus, 020.M31, the start of a new year, the Aether-auspexes began to chime, warning of incoming vessels. The legion fleet and their attendant vessels began to charge their weapons, guns aimed at the empty space of the Elysian Gate in preparation to prevent and slow the traitors from gaining a beachhead. All knew this to be a hopeless task, for the traitors vastly outnumbered them, but even among the mortals there was no talk of retreat, only stoic resignation. Three thousand kilometers of empty space began to churn, clouds of dust swirling with flashes of lightning as the Eyes of the Old God, the aggregate station-fortress which guarded the Gate since the Age of Strife against horrific star-vampires and soulless iron men, charged their weapons. On every Death Guard ship, the legionaries chanted ancient Barbaran oaths as the system held its breath. The Gate opened.

From Unreality spilled three vessels of the damned. Once they had been made by human hands, macro-transports designed for cargo; now they were misshapen and distorted, thousands of vessels conglomerated together to form what sailors called Space Hulks. Fires rippled across the Hulks' surfaces, but still they pushed on, metal and stone buckling under enough firepower to destroy a fleet. Yet the vessels did not simply take their punishment meekly. Waves of scrap-code and electromagnetic distortion invisible to the naked eye poured out, burning the loyalist machine-spirits with techno-heresy that drove them mad. There had not been time to refit the entire legion with noospheric dampeners, and so many vessels began to fall silent, or even turn upon themselves or their allies as their guns fired wildly. Enough remained focused and vigilant though, and so within a few minutes, the Hulks had fallen, detonating silently in the vacuum of space. But they had survived long enough, and dozens of vessels had already spilled into reality. The first wave consisted of the Lost and the Damned, traitor Imperial Navy flotillas and cultists of every stripe. On and on they poured out of the Elysian Gate, hundreds of ships dying over the course of hours as the armadas of a thousand worlds died as cannon fodder.

However, these deaths were anything but pointless. The shattered corpses of their vessels formed debris fields that shielded further reinforcements, and the Death Guard gradually gave ground in an attempt to avoid being surrounded by the more numerous foe. Such monumental death fueled the Warp-gate, which yawned ever-wider and disgorged ever more ships, now bearing the insignia of the Legiones Astartes. Gunmetal slabs of bristling armaments, brutalist hunks of metal without any obvious weak points such as windows bulled their way through the debris field with the characteristic brutality of the Iron Warriors, while lightning-fast vessels of the Star Hunters surged away from the battle, racing further into the Solar System in search of prey for their hunts. The Death Guard let them go, for there were forces waiting for them, and they had their own battles to fight here. The legion began to fall back, killing a dozen vessels for every one of their own that fell, but it still wasn't enough. Forced away from the Gate, the Eyes of the Old God fell silent, shattered under the weight of thousands of guns, which soon turned their attention towards the void-habitats floating serenely in the upper atmosphere of the gas giant. Most of the population had been evacuated, but there had not been the time or resources to save them all, and so millions perished, their deaths opening the Gate still further.

From the yawning depths of the Gate continued to come new and more terrible threats. The sharp prows of bloated purple warships the color of a bruise erupted into reality like pus from a boil, slow and purposeful as they moved straight for the remaining Death Guard vessels, who were by this time tired and spent after nearly two days of continuous conflict. Nonetheless the sons of Mortarion refused to yield more ground, inspired by the presence of their primarch in his flagship Endurance. Compared to the darkly baroque vessels of the Emperor's Children opposite it, the battleship was sparse and barren, unadorned save for a massive haloed skull on the bow above the ram. Through the glass windows of the Commandery just above the dorsal hull, the Death Lord watched as the ships of the Third Legion came closer and closer, shrugging off absurd amounts of firepower. Their hulls appeared fleshy, coated in a thick layer of dust and carbon and spewing vile effluents from rents in their armor.

For seven long hours, the Death Lord and his sons dueled with the scions of rot. In both space as well as across Uranus's dozens of moons, the Fourteenth clashed with the chosen of Nurgle, their armor as void-sealed as their vessels to remain safe from the contagions and plagues. Though it took far too much firepower, the Emperor's Children could die, and die they did, burning from dozens of dread weapons Mortarion had kept in his arsenal for just this moment. But the traitors did not die alone, and one by one, the Death Guard fell, shot and hacked to pieces. In several places, the very battlefields they fought on died with them, Mortarion ordering the destruction of several moons in order to take more of the enemy with them. The Endurance died as well, sent as a fire-ship into the midst of the Third Legion lines, detonating with all the brightness of the white-hot phosphex canisters filling its cargo holds. In the wake of the explosion, the war-barge Greenheart, which once formed a small segment of the mighty battleship, fled the battlefield, accompanied by two dozen surviving legion vessels. Fully half his sons had died before Mortarion had conceded the battle to the forces of Fulgrim, but his resolve was anything but broken.

The remaining Death Guard fell back through the nearly three billion kilometers of space to Terra itself, trusting in their allies to hold the traitors back longer. They had gained nearly three days of time, a great commodity, for all were aware reinforcements were on their way. The astropaths of the City of Sight, once blinded by the storms, now sang of the Word Bearers on their way, freed from the ruinous storms which had kept them imprisoned for so long. While this boosted morale, Mortarion himself cared little about the Word Bearers or even Terra itself; he was resigned to die: his only wish was to take as many traitors with him before he went. Spite more than anything kept him going, for he would not let others show his legion up or shoulder their burdens. Thus when the Death Guard arrived on Terra, they immediately took up positions within the Raven's Gate, the spaceport that lay between the Inner and Outer Palaces. The traitors were sure to attempt to take it in order to bypass the Outer Walls, as well as land heavy ordinance, for the spaceport was capable of unloading even titans. Over ten thousand sons of Mortarion filled the halls of the sky-city, along with two million soldiers of the Imperial Army, while five orbital plates formed a mobile skin surrounding the spaceport.

For three agonizing weeks, the Defenders of Terra prepared and waited, watching the lights in the sky as the traitors grinded ever closer to the homeworld. The Fourteenth took full advantage of this, resting and resupplying, and they were ready as the first traitor fleets arrived in orbit. Battlefleet Solar had fallen back after Luna fell, and so the traitors began to land in force. Countless mutants and cultists spilled forth onto the surface of Terra following a weeks-long bombardment, but curiously, none attempted to land upon the spaceport itself. The Death Guard sat waiting for an attack that seemed like it would never come. Secundus turned into Tertius, and still the traitors had not made their move against them. But this could not last forever, and on the Twentieth of Quartus, the attack began. Toxic clouds of disease and smog began to roll over the katabatic plains, obscuring the heretics' advance, while kilometers above them, drop ships began to land on the docks in the upper atmosphere. It was an attack from above and below, a brutal and direct assault from the sons of Perturabo. A bellowing Astartes with the insignia of a Warsmith was sighted urging his men forward, though the characteristic pre-battle bombardment so typical of the Fourth had not occurred.

It seemed as though the entirety of Perturabo's sons had been committed to this action, and with characteristic bad luck, had occurred when Mortarion himself was absent, having returned to the Inner Palace to consult with his brothers. In his place in command of the forces present stood Captain Vorx.

Siegemaster Vorx

One of the first Barbaran Aspirants, the Astartes known as Vorx from the beginning displayed an unusual level of devotion to his primarch. Almost all Astartes revered their gene-father, with some legions such as the Ultramarines taking it a step further to almost worship, but most tried to hide it, especially in a stoic legion such as the Fourteenth. Vorx however made no secret of it, boldly proclaiming his devotion to Mortarion, which led to several incidents where the overzealous Vorx challenged marines from other legions to honor duels for insulting his primarch. Mortarion himself did not know what to do with Vorx, and so appointed him a fleet commander and sent him off on his own so that he didn't have to deal with him. Vorx served honorably in this role, and by the time of the Siege of Terra, was one of the senior officers of the legion. Thus he was appointed to command the forces of Raven's Gate, and gained the title of Siegemaster as befitting his status.

For twenty-one grueling days, Vorx and his brothers defended against attacks from all sides. The Death Guard had abandoned their characteristic scythes, which would only be a liability in the narrow corridors, and wielded axes and flails. Just like the Battle of the Elysian Gate, the Fourteenth turned the Raven's Gate into a slow, grinding contest. Every chamber and hallway contained only death for the invaders, and the Iron Warriors suffered horrendous casualties in their blunt methods. Yet the sons of Perturabo did not live to see the results of their victory, for as they prepared for one final push, another force arrived. Gunships in the stone-gray of the Crimson Fists swooped in as thousands of Dorn's sons attacked the Raven's Gate, killing both Death Guard and Iron Warrior. The Imperial defenders fell at last, overwhelmed by this latest push, and Vorx himself fell at the hands of the brutal Fafnir Rann, the infamous Executioner of the First Assault Cadre, who had attacked Vorx from behind as he stood above the body of a Blood Angels captain whom he had slain. The last of the Death Guard fell back after Vorx perished, destroying the upper landing pads to prevent titans from landing there and retreating through the sky-bridges back into the Inner Palace as the traitors pressed ever closer.

For another two weeks, the Death Guard waited within the Palace, while outside the walls, the traitor and loyal titans dueled in one last climactic struggle where mortal men and even Astartes had no place. Though admirable, the loyal titans were too few, having suffered tremendous losses at Beta-Garmon, and so the traitor titans took their place alongside the rest of the traitor siege guns. However, this presented an opening, and so while the enemy hung back, waiting for their guns to breach the defenses to let the slaughter begin, the Death Guard were moving to carry out one of Vulkan's contingency plans. A vast network of tunnels connected every wing of the Palace, and while many had been collapsed, a select few had remained open. Led by Alpha Legion scouts, Mortarion and his sons hurried through the twisting warrens, emerging within the Raven's Gate with nearly eight thousand Astartes at his back. Their mission was simple: draw the traitors away from the Inner Palace.

The loyalists knew the spaceport far better than Dorn's sons did, and so the Death Guard swiftly seized the massive structure within three days of battle. Vulkan's plan was a success, and the Crimson Fists were forced to divert their forces once more to take the Raven's Gate yet again lest the Iron Warriors take the glory. However, even this late in the siege, the traitors still vastly outnumbered the loyalist defenders, their ranks bolstered further by the denizens of the Warp. Daemons of every description began to flood the halls, and the Death Guard found themselves cut off and surrounded. Even in these dark days, no son of Barbarus ever considered surrendering, and so they fought to the last, wasting ever more of the traitors' ever-dwindling time. Mortarion himself returned to the Palace after the initial success, for Vulkan's plans called for all primarchs to be kept as weapons of last resort lest the traitor primarchs show themselves. Such a plan infuriated the Death Lord, stinging his pride that others were shouldering the burdens that they would no doubt hold over him in the future. However, what Vulkan did not account for was the depth of how petty Mortarion could be. If the Praetorian would not let him fight, then so be it. Thus while his legion was occupied defending the Raven's Gate, Mortarion found himself alone, wandering into the depths of the Inner Palace. Maybe once the traitors broke through, his brother would recognize his worth and recall him to the surface: by defending the Inner Palace, the heaviest burden would fall upon his shoulders, and they would have no choice but to give him the honor that was his due. Thus Mortarion made his way deep into the Inner Palace, walking past power coils the size of hab-blocks, through the sweltering heat up hundreds of stairs until he stood before what he belatedly realized was his father. The Emperor sat motionless upon a golden throne, arms gripping the manchettes with a rictus stare upon his face. His golden armor was filthy, covered with daemonic ichor from some titanic struggle. This was the first time he had seen his father in years, and Malcador's words rang in his ears. The witch was gone, disappeared before the start of the Solar War, and Mortarion wasn't sure if he was glad that he was gone. Clearly the Tyrant must have some reason for staying down here even as his Palace fell down around him. Mortarion knelt down, meeting the Emperor's blank gaze as he stared into his eyes. The Master of Mankind met his son's gaze for one brief moment, before standing up.

Agony. Mortarion thought he knew what pain was. He thought he knew what death was. He was wrong. He could barely think, every neuron burning with unimaginable heat. Yet he did not die.

When Mortarion had sat on the Throne, he was under the impression he would be powering the Astronomican, that by taking the Emperor's place, he would be keeping the light going. But this throne was no power source, it was something else entirely. Through the blinding pain, Mortarion recalled his father's words of removing the dependency on psykers. At the time, he had thought that meant Nikaea. But perhaps he was wrong.

Almost as painful as the energies coursing through his body was the knowledge he was doing this through the use of Warp-craft. Through sorcery. Mortarion hated himself more than he did the Emperor at that moment, for giving in. In the light of this revelation, the pain from the Throne seemed almost cleansing. In his agony, Mortarion thought he could see things, of events across the galaxy, of the Emperor speaking to him. Whether these were memories or visions he could not say. All there was left for him was pain. But he was Mortarion of Barbarus, and he would endure.

Post-Heresy: Enduring

Time lost meaning for Mortarion upon the Golden Throne, his body withering despite his supernatural healing factor. What was only several hours in real time was an eternity to him, his mind dissociated from reality to cope with the agony, and thus when the Emperor returned, Mortarion collapsed down from the Throne, his unconscious body borne out of the chamber to a medical wing to recover. The incredible stress had taken its toll on the primarch, and he lay unconscious for weeks, his body struggling to heal from a sort of psychic hyperthermia. A lesser mortal would have been burnt to ash, but the Death Lord's legendary resilience had allowed him to pull through.

While their primarch lay on the edge of life and death, his legion struggled to find its place. Less than ten thousand Astartes remained, and many of those were heavily wounded. Unlike other legions, the Death Guard had not left an extensive garrison upon their homeworld, for it was located far from Segmentum Solar and its toxic atmosphere offered little to any would-be invader. The prospect of death at traitor hands had not bothered the legion, but the thought of losing their primarch in what should have been the hour of victory proved to be too much for some. Many legionaries had witnessed the arrival of Lorgar of Colchis, his golden aura suffusing the area around him, and many began to believe in the Emperor for the first time in their life. Yet none could lower their guard to tell this to their brothers, and so the legion remained secluded within their barracks under the command of Nathaniel Garro until their primarch returned.

When Mortarion did awake, he was greeted not by the Emperor or one of his brothers, but by a man he absolutely despised: Malcador the Sigillite. The Regent of Terra explained to Mortarion that he would bear the scars from his experience for the rest of his life: they would define him, but it was up to the primarch to determine their definition, what they meant. The two spent many days in conversation as Mortarion was convalescing, and by the end of it, it appeared Malcador's forbearance had finally worn the primarch down, for while the two were never friends, no more did they openly bicker or fight as they once had. Mortarion returned to his legion a changed man, both physically and emotionally. Once broad, the Death Lord was now deathly thin, and combined with his great height (even compared to other primarchs) and colossal scythe, was the very image of the ancient Terran myth of the Reaper. Though none but he and Malcador knew it, his traumatic experience on the Throne had unlocked his psychic potential, and Mortarion could now exude an almost physical aura of fear. To his disgust though, even his own sons began to reverence him.

After returning to his sons, the Death Lord moved to join in the grand campaign that would come to be known as the Scouring. The Death Guard landed upon Luna, and swiftly broke the rabble left behind there as they converged on the Selenar laboratories. Most traitors had fled the Solar System, but many others were trapped, or were so lost to their foul patrons that they preferred to stay and continue the bloodshed. Mortarion and his sons showed them the error of their ways, his unconscious psychic aura inspiring dread in the hearts of all who faced him. Yet this was a hollow victory: the laboratories themselves were utterly wrecked, their gene-seed repositories ransacked and heavily damaged. Even as the Death Guard moved on, seeking more targets for vengeance, hope still remained. After Mars was retaken by the Iron Hands, Biologis Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus were given control of the laboratories, painstakingly disassembling the research facilities piece by piece and rebuilding them upon Mars. In exchange for this wealth of knowledge, the Death Guard were the first to have access to these facilities, and soon began to grow in size once more.

While the Leonine Heresy might have ended, the conflicts between brothers had not. In exchange for his aid, Mortarion had demanded exclusive access to these facilities, and had endeavored to keep them a secret. Yet word soon got out, and the other legions wanted access to this valuable resource, though Mortarion did his best to brush aside these beggars. They may have fought for the Emperor, but none had sacrificed so much as he had, save for perhaps the Raven Guard. Mortarion had not learned of his brother's fate until he and Horus had returned to Terra after Molech when he discovered the Lion's Gate spaceport now bore the name of their fallen brother. While this only reinforced the Death Lord's view on trusting others, it discomfited him: Corax had always shared similar views on tyranny and on Magnus, and the two had even bonded slightly. But Mortarion had been too closed-off, never making the effort to bond with Corvus, and now that chance was gone forever. Had the orphaned Raven Guard asked for access, Mortarion might well have given it to them, but certainly not these other legions. However, there was one who would not take no for an answer.

"I told you my answer before. Now begone." Mortarion spat. He had cast aside his rebreather after the Siege, considering it a crutch, but it was times like these he wished he still had it to better hide his expressions.

"You're being selfish. Your sons are not the only ones to have suffered and bled for the Allfather." The icy voice of Russ boomed back at him. Russ had changed since Mortarion had last seen him. When he first heard Russ was looking for him, he had expected his brother to pick a fight, to shout and yell. But now he just looked…disappointed. "Your son Typhon knew the meaning of sacrifice, of giving yourself without any expectation of reward."

"Do not presume to speak to me about Typhon. If what you said was true, then he was a fool who wasted time and resources chasing witch-dreams. How dare he waste his men's lives on a fool's errand like that. He was a liar and a witch, and a…"

"HE WAS A HERO." Russ roared, before calming down, the icy facade descending once more. "You will pull your ships back and allow the other legions access, or I will make you, brother."

Though Russ's threats alone did not bother Mortarion, others began to join their voices to his, including the Warmaster as well as Malcador. Alone in his stance, Mortarion finally relented, and withdrew his forces from Mars. The gene-seed repositories of the Adeptus Mechanicus were opened to all the legions, and it became common practice for the nine legions to tithe five percent for genetic purity testing and storage on the Red Planet. In the time when it was solely the province of the Death Guard, they had benefited greatly, and now stood at nearly fifty thousand strong, a force to be reckoned with once more. However, the Death Lord would not take this insult lightly, and soon pulled his sons from working in concert with the other legions. The Death Guard would continue the Scouring, but it would be on their own terms, apart from the other legions as they had been during the Great Crusade.

However, the legion was not so nearly united as it had been in those days. Many sons of Mortarion had begun to question the rationale behind what appeared to be a mindless hatred of witches, for they had seen the effectiveness of the Librarius from other legions in combating daemons and sorcerers. Led by Section Leader Crysos Morturg, the successor of Grulgor who had perished at the Elysian Gate, he argued for the adoption of psychic powers so that the Fourteenth would not have to rely on other psykers. He pointed out (in secret, never openly) that their primarch himself was clearly a psyker, even if he denied it, and so swayed a large portion of the legion to his side; yet a greater number stood to oppose them. Led by Marshal Durak Rask and Chief Apothecary Crosius, these purists vehemently denied psykers in keeping with the primarch's philosophy, who had thus far remained silent on the issue. In truth Mortarion did not know which side to favor any more, and the uncertainty only led to loathing for the sons who were attempting to make him decide for them.

The legion itself seemed to be on the verge of civil war, but Mortarion was so very tired of dealing with the petty disputes of others. His sons clearly did not understand how he felt, and he certainly wasn't going to tell them; nor would he act the tyrant and tell them what they should feel. Finally he could take no more, and just under fifty years after the end of the Heresy, Mortarion disappeared. His final message was garbled, and the astropaths struggled to make sense of it. Most believed the message indicated he was headed for Terra. Yet even the Inquisition has no record of him ever arriving on the throneworld. Many others of the legion believed their primarch had said the 'Eye of Terror', mostly those who had rejected the Librarius.

In an act unheard of, Marshal Rask took his Great Company, departing from the rest of the legion and heading for the Eye of Terror, for they would keep watch for their primarch even if nobody else would. Theirs is a dark tale, and the galaxy would come to rue their decision. But for now, the Death Guard seemed unified again: even Chief Apothecary Crosius remained, preferring unity to pride, and so the legion adopted the Librarius, just as most legions had, for the Edicts of Nikaea had been quietly forgotten in the wake of the Heresy. Worship of their primarch grew along with the Librarius, and so the Death Guard became like the other legions in spirit, though they themselves would never admit it. They remain in the Segmentum Tempestus, one of the smaller legions and almost forgotten about by the wider galaxy, for they rarely leave their domains as they guard the southwestern edges of the Imperium of Mankind. It is a thankless task, but no others can be relied upon to do it. The Death Guard will continue as they always have, until death itself claims them.

Homeworld, Recruitment, and Gene-seed

The homeworld of the Fourteenth Legion is as hostile and withdrawn as the sons who hail from it. Located far to the galactic southwest, the world of Barbarus is and was a toxic nightmare of a planet. Thick smog choked its mountain peaks and rendered what little sunlight slipped through the clouds as pale and wan. The biosphere reflected these harsh conditions: the soil was pale and chalky, unsuitable for growing crops, while the grass was gray and pallid. Virulent diseases festered in the many swamps, and the small human population struggled under the depredations of the Pale Kings, foul xenos predators who ruled over armies of the dead. After Mortarion's arrival and vanquishing of these horrors, the death of the Pale Kings proved that much of the smog was Warp-based, a byproduct of foul sorcery, and the climate improved marginally after Mechanicum atmospheric purifiers were installed.

However, the Pale Kings' influence still lingers, ten thousand years later. Foul monstrosities from horrific experiments still haunt the fens and wild moors, and the atmosphere is highly irregular. Many uncommon gasses are present in high concentrations, and while normally harmless, on occasion combine to create toxic choking clouds that leave entire valleys lifeless as the clouds settle in. While the Adeptus Mechanicus possess the capability to install more purification engines, the Death Guard have always refused any offer of aid, seeing the world as an ideal testing ground to produce the best aspirants for their legion. The aspirants of Barbarus undergo many harsh trials, though generally confined to endurance rather than feats of strength. These trials are especially trying for those suspected of possessing psychic potential, for little is more dangerous than the uncontrolled mind of a psyker. However, this has resulted in librarians of incredible control and finesse, if not necessarily raw power.

The original legion was once split between the Dusk Raiders, who were all recruited on Terra, and the Pale Sons, those who hailed from the legion's new homeworld. Now, however, the Death Guard only recruits from Barbarus, refusing to even participate in the INSERT NAME HERE, and remain suspicious of the quality of other legions who cast a wider net in recruiting. However, their suspicions may be on to something, for far fewer Death Guard have turned their backs on the Emperor than have other legions. However, no legion was without traitors, and the worst of these hailing from the ranks of the Fourteenth are the warband known as the 'Marines Malevolent'.

Marines Malevolent

In the confused days after their primarch's disappearance during the Scouring, the Death Guard were unsure of their path, how they should proceed as regards the librarius project or if their primarch was truly gone. As the years passed, many began to believe he was gone for good, but few believed he was dead. Mortarion's resilience had become almost an article of faith for the legion, though there were some that rejected this. When the legion gave in and implemented the librarius, there were those who would not accept this seeming betrayal, and under the command of Marshal Durak Rask, departed the legion in search of the primarch. After confirming Mortarion had not been seen on Terra, Rask's forces journeyed toward a permanent Warpstorm in the northwest of the galaxy known as the Eye of Terror.

Rask and his men only found corrupted planets and fearsome storms, and yet some among their number could swear their primarch had been this way and had entered the storm. Others rejected this notion, preferring to search elsewhere, but they were overruled. Rask's Great Company was riven in what became known as the Schism Malevolent, and several thousand entered the Warpstorm to the horror of their comrades. Millennia later, after the First Black Crusade and the creation of the Cadian Gate Fortresses, the Eye of Terror spewed forth a new fleet of rusted and corrupted traitor vessels filled with Heretic Astartes calling themselves the Marines Malevolent. Analysis of the dead showed a high probability these traitors had once been Rask's men, though what horrors they had seen and what corrupted them remains unknown.

The Marines Malevolent have plagued the galaxy for millennia, worshiping not the Ruinous Powers but their own dark creed merging the Master of Mankind and their own primarch into a being they called the Emperor of the Wasteland, a being of hatred and fear who does not protect but only condemns. Their blend of psychotic nihilism and rapacious cruelty has made ruins of dozens of worlds, descending like raptors to plunder and murder before withdrawing as suddenly as they arrive. The Death Guard have sworn to oppose them, and have fought with their fallen brothers countless times over the millennia.

The Death Guard confine their patrols to the western half of Segmentum Tempestus and the southern reaches of Segmentum Pacificus so as to avoid the domains of the Sons of Horus or Raven Guard. This area of space, peaceful compared to the tumultuous Eastern Fringes, nonetheless has perils of its own, especially the portions that comprise the Veiled Region. Vast and scarcely mapped, the Veiled Region is a huge area stretching across the southern edge of the galaxy, home to dense nebulae and pirates. Despite its dangers, many are drawn to the rumors of rich worlds and scattered human settlements lost since the Age of Strife that still persist in this mysterious realm. In more recent years, the Veiled Region has produced yet another threat, the Speed Freek hordes of WAAAGH! Wazdakka. The largest ork migration ever seen in this area of the galaxy, Wazdakka's forces seem to be headed straight for Terra, and have an uncanny grasp of tellyporta technology, which somehow allows their bikers to drive from planet to planet. The slower forces of the Death Guard have struggled mightily to contain these fast-moving xenos wherever they strike, but the sons of Mortarion are nothing if not resilient, and will never give in.

Many Biologis Magos, after studying the Death Guard and their behavior, have speculated that this famous tenacity is a byproduct of their gene-seed. The gene-seed of Mortarion is remarkably pure, with only minor defects. Aspirants who receive it display a predilection towards pallid complexions, as well as increased height at the cost of bulk. Despite their relatively slender nature, the sons of Mortarion are incredibly enduring, showing few signs of age and shrugging off wounds that would incapacitate even other Astartes. Of their cousin legions, only the Iron Hands and Salamanders come close to matching this resilience, though of the two, the Salamanders are closer to being considered a rival. However, in all honesty, the Death Guard care little for such displays of glory, and ignore the attempts of other legions to assert dominance in such trivial matters.

To the people of Barbarus, the Death Guard are distant figures, rulers of the mountainous places who come down to protect them from the horrors of the wild. The Fourteenth are incredibly close with their people, enduring hardships and shouldering the burdens that mortals cannot bear. However, this is unfortunately only one part of the bigger picture. Many Pale Kings were experts in flesh-shaping, and took pleasure in crafting new and more wicked experiments. A sizable percentage of Barbarus's people bears evidence of this genetic tampering, and many display the signs of great psychic potential. Such power could lead to disaster if not handled correctly, but the Black Ships do not visit legion homeworlds, and so the Death Guard must deal with this task themselves. Those who are strong enough to endure the Astartes trials are given the chance to join the legion, but an altogether darker fate awaits the rest of the population who display evidence of genetic tampering.

Mortus Poisoners

In the days of the Leonine Heresy, the Mortus Poisoners were an elite subset of Destroyer Squads, who specialized in chemical and flamer warfare. Even compared to the high casualties facing normal destroyers, the Poisoners suffered an even greater toll, withering away from the harsh toxins they handled so often. After the Heresy, the Death Guard were few in number, and so Mortarion saw little point in maintaining two separate groups of Destroyers, and so the name of Poisoner was darkened, used for those censured and punished. The nature of the role only further darkened, and after their primarch's disappearance, the Poisoners were permanently stationed on Barbarus.

The taint of the Pale Kings is insidious, growing with each passing generation. Thus with a heavy heart, the Poisoners have acted as pruners and trimmers, living up to their now-ironic name as they purge this poison before it can spread. When the taint is confirmed, and all chance of useful redemption is exhausted, the Poisoners are unleashed, burning entire villages in sickly emerald flames as they purge anything living within an infected zone so that the rest of Barbarus might live. Theirs is a grim duty, rightly reserved for the censured so that the rest of the legion might sleep more easily without the maddening sounds of screaming children haunting their dreams.

Combat Doctrines and Organization

The wider Imperium would be greatly surprised to hear of the care the people of Barbarus have for their legion overlords. To their cousin legions, the Death Guard are tolerated but unwelcome, outcast due to their unpleasant personalities. To the Imperial Guard, the Fourteenth are merciless angels of death, whose tactics leave more of their own dead than the enemy. To the Adeptus Ministorum, the Death Guard are almost pagan, refusing to believe in the God-Emperor almost to the point of denying his right to rule Mankind. Thus the Fourteenth remains on their own in most war zones, only called upon as a last resort, and that is how the legion prefers it. Though most of their aloof demeanor is an act, the core of it is real, for many legionaries nurture that same seed of resentment that festered in their primarch so long ago toward those whom they perceive as having led easier lives than them. The people of Barbarus are the sole exception to this, as they too have grown up amidst the choking fogs of their wretched world.

Though the Death Guard undertake the same type of warfare that other legions do as they patrol the Veiled Regions, their combat role is altogether different when called upon to aid Imperial forces elsewhere. When the dour sons of Mortarion are called, it is because all other hope has failed. When the foe has pressed too close to victory, whether it be Tyranid infestation or orkish hordes or the ever-present threat of Chaos corruption, the Fourteenth are called upon for asset denial. Grim ships in the bone-white and pale green of the Death Guard enter the system with a chilling warning, giving Imperial forces one day to pull back or be caught in the crossfire. When that time has elapsed, they begin to draw closer, a noose around the unfortunate world. Fear and panic builds in the heart of the foes as death hangs inexorably above them, and turns to terror as they unleash their devastating payloads on the surface below. Usually the planet is rendered lifeless, but some foes are too foolish to die when they are supposed to, and so the Death Guard descend to unleash a second and final death. Marching through the lakes of fire left from their first assault, the sons of Mortarion are relentless, marching in dense formations and shrugging off any attacks sent back at them. The Death Guard have maintained their ways of waging war almost unchanged since the Leonine Heresy. They do not hide their presence in battle, slowly marching toward the foe as they exterminate all in their path. They do not often communicate with their allies, but only a fool would disregard the quiet commands of the Fourteenth.

Much like the Deathwatch of the Ordo Xenos, the Death Guard utilize a variety of esoteric weapons and ammunition in order to better destroy their foes. Though chem/rad-weapons remain the most common, there are some foes on whom they simply do not work as they should, especially daemons. To counteract this shortcoming, the Fourteenth have developed more specialized tools. Against the possessed and corrupted, the Death Guard bring to bear bolters firing soulburner rounds, composed of a rare alloy that, much like its name suggests, extinguishes the anima of those it strikes. Against unliving constructs and those without flesh such as the Necrons, the legion unleashes entropy cannons, releasing Cosmic Rust which renders once-impenetrable armor riddled with holes.

One unique feature of the Fourteenth is their preeminent emphasis on the Apothecarium. It is only logical that a legion who deals with inimical weaponry on a constant basis would need a correspondingly effective medical force, and so the Apothecaries of the legion are famous across the Imperium for their skill. Wounded limbs which would require bionic replacement in others are healed back at incredible speed, and warriors soon rejoin their comrades as good as new. It is a secret known only to a select few that most if not all apothecaries of the XIV are actually psykers. The touch of the Warp does not always result in incredible destructive force: another school of psychic mastery exists known as biomancy. Practitioners of biomancy shape the mutable energies of the Warp into more positive forms, healing the wounded or strengthening already-healthy flesh to become as hard as iron to the point where even bare hands become as effective as hammers or swords at wounding the foe. The most powerful of their number have even been known to manipulate the energy of their nervous systems to unleash crackling bolts of bio-lightning, though this is highly dangerous for the user. The Death Guard Apothecaries have worked alongside the Orders Hospitaller of the Adepta Sororitas many times, serving as advisors and liaisons in battlefield hospitals across the Imperium.

In addition to healing, the Apothecaries are also heavily involved in overseeing the hypno-indoctrination of new aspirants. These methods were originally pioneered long ago during the dark days of the Second Rangdan Xenocide, when the bio-horrors the legion faced became almost too much even for Astartes. They most often started out as crude memory barriers, lessening the intensity of memories so that the horror faded but not the memory of how to fight a particular foe. Since then, the legions have developed this field, subjecting their aspirants to psycho-indoctrination to harden their resolve and hone them into merciless warriors. The Death Guard, however, take it a step further, using modified hypnomats to interface directly with the Catalepsean Node, the Astartes organ which allows them to operate for extended periods without sleep. The Nodes are modified, biologically reprogrammed to subconsciously activate in times of extreme stress, reducing the effect of horror and madness. Thus to many outsiders, the Death Guard appear sullen and morose, but such emotional dampeners make the legion highly effective in confronting the myriad xenos and daemonic threats that plague the galaxy.

The Death Guard are organized in much the same way as they were during the Heresy. It is estimated just over ninety thousand Astartes of the Death Guard are active in the galaxy as of the end of M41, and the legion has remained around this size ever since they rebuilt themselves after their near extinction at the hands of the Rangda or the deadly wounds of the Leonine Heresy. Though Mortarion's gene-seed is relatively stable, the population of Barbarus is too small to allow for the legion to match the size of others such as the Sons of Horus or Word Bearers. Thus they remain in the middle in terms of legion sizes, smaller than some but bigger than others such as the Raven Guard or Salamanders whose gene-seed is less pure or compatible. The bulk of the legion is almost entirely infantry, and its doctrine revolves around it. Transports and armor are utilized in support roles, and are much fewer in number than in other legions. The legion is divided into seven Great Companies, each composed of over a dozen chapters. These Great Companies typically operate as a cohesive whole, for little can resist the might of over ten thousand Astartes. However, such a doctrine of warfare comes with the side effect of limiting how many battlefields they can deploy to, and the legion has been pressed especially hard in recent centuries.

As befits their sullen and insular nature, the Death Guard have few allies. The Imperial Guard and Adepta Sororitas are hesitant to call upon them, and their cousin legions almost refuse to trust them. There exists a competitive spirit between the Fourteenth and the Tenth and Eighteenth as to which legion is the toughest, but the Death Guard pays it less mind than the other two do. Of all Astartes, the Death Guard are probably closest to being allies of the Grey Knights. Like all legions, few sons of Barbarus really know or understand the true nature of the silver-armored knights they occasionally fight alongside, but the Death Guard are nothing if not results-oriented, and so they do not question their allies' incredible effectiveness at combating the heretic and the daemon. The High Lords of Terra equally fear and respect the Death Guard, and trust them to carry out missions even their favorites the Raven Guard would hesitate to undertake. Likewise, the Adeptus Mechanicus are known to ally with the Fourteenth, for their methods of war tend to leave worlds purged of life but otherwise intact for the tech-priests to begin their salvage operations.

There exists a popular misconception across the Imperium that the Fourteenth are most often deployed against xenos. Many believe the reason they are rarely observed is because their methods are most suited for combat with non-humans. However, this is simply not the case. In truth, the Death Guard most often fight foes tainted by Chaos, which is most often human, but they oppose all their foes with equal contempt and hatred. They fight against all whom they are ordered to, but based on their position in the galactic southwest, some foes simply aren't encountered as often, such as the Necrons, Tyranids, or T'au. Like all loyal legions, the Death Guard bear special hatred for the Heretic Astartes of the Traitor Legions, and in particular toward the Thousand Sons, Emperor's Children, and the White Scars. The Thousand Sons are despised for their reckless and heretical use of psychic powers, and the two have clashed many times. The Sons of Magnus are infuriated to see loyal legions utilize psychic powers where they themselves were condemned, and especially hate the Fourteenth for it, for their primarch was noted for his opposition to psychic powers. The hatred for the Emperor's Children is stronger on the part of the Death Guard, for it seems as though the Third mocks the legion with its refusal to die, and the two have engaged many times in attritional endurance warfare. However, the greatest rivalry exists between the Fourteenth and the Fifth. The Star Hunters were those that originally betrayed the Death Guard, attacking without provocation and killing thousands of legionaries as they toyed with their prey. Though the Star Hunters have since renamed themselves to the White Scars, the Death Guard maintain their grudge nonetheless, and have contributed a permanent garrison to the forces ringing the Maelstrom who maintain their endless watch there.

Beliefs and Warcry

The Death Guard have a highly idiosyncratic belief system. The dread reputation of the legion means few are even willing to speak of the Fourteenth, let alone dare to approach one to ask his opinion. Nor is the legion's preferred style of warfare conducive to leave behind witnesses or even survivors. However, the Inquisition has its sources, for none are above suspicion. The Death Guard are highly distrustful, especially of anything related to the Warp. They do utilize psykers, but the Librarius is kept apart from the rest of their brethren. Barbaran numerology and incantations ring the librarians' chambers, and their psychic hoods are incredibly effective at shielding their minds from the perils of the Warp.

The Death Guard have little interaction with the Ecclesiarchy, and have little affection for the Emperor. The authority of the Master of Mankind is recognized, but it is not loved as it is in other legions. Mortarion's legacy has left his sons distrustful of all outside authority, and even within the legion, captains are elected, not chosen. This peculiar arrangement is almost unique among the nine legions, for most other legions, and indeed other institutions, select their commanders from above; the closest analog to this concept would be the Thegnsmoot of the Sixth Legion, but even that hallowed tradition bears substantial differences. After being chosen, the captain-elect then joins his fellow officers in the Ritual of the Cups. This tradition has its roots in the Great Crusade, where those who distinguished themselves on the battlefield would be invited to share a celebratory drink with the primarch. However, these drinks contained naught but pure poison, each chemical cocktail utterly inimical to human life. But the Death Guard were then as now famed for their resilience, and none have dared to refuse such an honor. After the disappearance of the primarch, the role was taken up by the legion master, and all of his successors since.

Barrow-Lord Garstag Kardainn

Like other legions, the Death Guard are led by a legion master, who in the XIV goes by the title of Barrow-Lord. The current Barrow-Lord is Garstag Kardainn, who is called the Lord of Silence for his famously aloof temperament. Kardainn gained his command only ten years ago following a successful operation in conjunction with a company of Word Bearers on the world of Sabatine. While they were successful in driving off the Ultramarines warband known as the White Consuls, the two legions bickered and argued the entire time, which allowed the traitors to irreparably poison the world. The Word Bearers of Colchis have since sworn a grudge against Kardainn, which has expanded to include the entire Fourteenth after Kardainn assumed command.

Kardainn is an Astartes in the mold of Ignatius Grulgor: bitter, sardonic, and cruel. The Death Guard has only grown more isolated since he took command, and as a relatively young Astartes, it is likely he will retain command for centuries to come, barring an untimely death. Kardainn has intentionally furthered the legion's isolation, openly refusing calls for aid and answering hails with half-truths and blatant lies about how busy the legion is. His tenure has been effective due to the emphasis he places on recruitment, as well as his willingness to share in the Ritual of the Cup with his brothers, two facts which have kept his subordinates from calling for his removal. However, the Death Guard's growth in numbers is matched by a corresponding diminution in outside allies, and it won't be long before the Fourteenth is left alone in a darkening galaxy where the foes of Man press ever closer.

As might be expected of a legion with 'death' in its name, the Fourteenth have a complex and oftentimes unhealthy obsession with mortality, both theirs and others. Being a galaxy-spanning institution, the Ecclesiarchy has countless interpretations of the afterlife, many of which are mutually exclusive. However, most worlds subscribe to the idea that faithful and virtuous souls journey to the Emperor's side after death, while sinners are punished in varying numbers of hells contained within the Warp. The Death Guard's beliefs are a variation of this concept. Life is recognized as suffering and toil, and death a release from that weary struggle. It is out of both mercy and spite that the Fourteenth utilize their soulburner rounds to deny their foes the embrace of the Warp they so desire.

The XIV places a premium on strength and resilience. The philosophy of might makes right is prevalent within the legion, and the common citizenry is often looked down upon. The Fourteenth see themselves as the Imperium's best defenders on account of the sufferings they have endured. However, the Death Guard also maintain their primarch's belief in the essential resilience of humanity, that through hardship, the average human can better himself; this concept is applied most often to the people of Barbarus, but can and has been extrapolated to include humans elsewhere. Some unorthodox legionaries have taken the basics of this philosophical outlook so far as to suggest not complaining to those they are saving, but such radicals are usually ignored. It is said that those primarchs and legions most willing to change were most likely to be loyal to the Emperor. If this is the case, the Death Guard are the exception that proves the rule, for they have remained obstinate and stuck in their ways even without their primarch's influence.

The Death Guard have maintained the legion colors unchanged since the Great Crusade. Since putting aside the unpainted gray of the Dusk Raiders after reuniting with their primarch, their armor is primarily white, a bleached ivory shade rimed with filth and dust. This pallid hue is offset by a light green trim, along with highlights of brass. Their iconography prominently features green skulls within a sunburst, a nod to their Dusk Raider past. Techmarines of the legion bear a darker shade of red compared to the usual Martian red of the Mechanicus, while Librarians wear a lighter, stormy blue-gray compared to the navy blue of other legions.

Unique among the legions, the Death Guard do not utilize purity seals, for war is an ugly business, and there is nothing pure about the exterminations and purges they are called on to undertake in the Emperor's name. Their sole decoration is a series of golden coins embedded within their armor. After a successful extermination campaign, a captain or other most senior officer will stand within an airless hangar on his vessel in low orbit, and ceremonially remove one such coin from his armor. Raising it up, he casts it down to the lifeless world below, payment for all the souls he and his brothers have reaped. This ritual is performed without fail on every world they are called to, and it is a silent, grim affair, for no words could suit the gravity of the moment. Likewise, the legion fights without any war cries, marching in relentless lockstep as silent as the grave, terrifying their foes as death marches on them without a word.

996.M41

"Watch-Master Ussax has reported back, Barrow-Lord." The resentful tone of Captain Dragan rang out across the strategium of the Solace, the Grand Cruiser which served as Garstag Karstainn's base of operations. Unlike previous commanders, Garstag had little love for Barbarus, preferring instead to be constantly on the move from warzone to warzone. The Solace was far from Barbarus now, orbiting the forge world of Agripinaa near the Eye of Terror, for even Garstag wasn't foolish enough to refuse aid to the beleaguered Cadian Gate. He had brought a portion of his own Great Company, around six hundred Astartes in total, while dispersing the rest of his forces throughout Segmentum Tempestus.

"Well? Out with it then. What dark tidings does Ussax bring us this time?" Garstag demanded. Dragan checked the readings one last time before turning to answer.

"It is confirmed. WAAAGH! Wazdakka has collided with the Ork Empire of Calverna. Hopes of years of internecine conflict have proved false, and the Arch-Maniac is no more. Wazdakka is now the biggest Warboss in Segmentum Pacificus." Dragan reported. Garstag spat, his acidic saliva melting a small hole in the strategium floor near Dragan's feet, who stepped back quickly.

"Order the Second and Third Great Companies to abandon their current campaigns and begin preparations for fighting orks. I don't care what they're doing."

"As you command, Barrow-Lord. However, worse news has come from Terra: the portents of the City of Sight are now without doubt. A new Tyranid hive fleet is en route, tentatively named Hive Fleet Leviathan."

"Grim tidings indeed. The Night Lords will have their hands full over in Ultima Segmentum."

"It's not coming from the east, Barrow-Lord."

"What is that supposed to mean? Tyranids all come from the east. Maybe it's you and not the astropath witches that are the fool here." Garstag spat at Captain Dragan once more, but this time it went wide. Dragan scowled before answering.

"Leviathan is not coming solely from the east as have the prior two assaults. The Swarm is approaching from below the galactic plane. It is estimated a large portion will emerge in the Veiled Region, within striking distance of Barbarus itself."

"You're just full of good news today, aren't you, Dragan?" Karstainn asked sarcastically. "Anything else you want to say?"

"Actually, there is, Barrow-Lord. An Inquisitor is here to see you. He says his name is Kryptman."


A/N: Would you look at that, even in a reality where they aren't aligned to Nurgle, their story is still number seven. In all seriousness, this one definitely presented problems for me as a writer, especially how to retain their culture without making them traitors or without totally changing their Imperium is not a nice place. It's defenders are not all great heroes or wise leaders. Thus the XIVth are, mostly, terrible terrible people. I'd like to think I did a decent job of conveying their personality, but as always, feel free to let me know in the comments what you liked and didn't like. The next entry is the Ultramarines, one that is quite the opposite to this one. I had an absolute blast writing their over-the-top Slaaneshy villainy, so I hope you'll stay tuned. Sharrowkyn, out.