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Horus took a deep breath to calm his violently throbbing chest, and pushed open the doors leading into the garrison. The unnamed station, which shall remain unnamed for many good reasons, would be the staging ground for the Imperium's new breeding program for its next generation of astartes- henceforth dubbed the Dominus Primaris in honor of Belisarius Cawl, whose aid both in the construction of the station and deciphering of the STC codex genome had been instrumental in making all of these accomplishments possible. Cawl confessed that he had the project in mind for more than ten thousand years now, never arriving at the intended conclusion until after Horus excavated the codex and passed it along. It was the Primarch whom he deemed responsible for the feat, not him.
Still, Horus refused to allow the honor and glory to go to his head, focusing instead on giving back all to his Legion-soon-to-be.
The Primarch marched into the massive assembly chamber, where hundreds of promising volunteers stood in neat rows close to the walls as servitors and skull-probes scanned and prepared them for the trials necessary to bring out the best in them for the transformation. Within the month, these men would be changed from mortal beings into demigod transhumans worthy of taking up the mantle as defenders of mankind.
The recruits beheld their gene-sire for the first time since they arrived at the closely guarded establishment, awe and fear making themselves evident in their gaze as they took in the piercing kind eyes, the finely chiseled face- the face of the Emperor himself. Horus returned their gaze with his own, a proud smile forming on his otherwise taut lips. He paused to address them formally, even though the recruits have been oriented on the procedures by the staff an hour before their arrival here. He didn't speak of duty or reminded them of the justice of their sacrifice for the cause. Instead, he thanked them sincerely for their dedication and trust in him, for it wasn't a mere transformation for them- they would be reshaped according to the Lupercal's gene seed.
They would be, essentially, him.
Most wouldn't be ready for such a step, but not them, and that's precisely why Horus was grateful for their support. In a galaxy rife with hatred, most directed at him, loyalty was hard to come by. He commanded it now, but he had no intention of abusing it. He would do better this time, far better.
"They are so many." Galio of the Bannerless Brethren remarked, watching from above as his Primarch greeted the recruits and welcomed them into the fold. Otho grinned, leaning against the railing as he counted the lines formed at the chamber below.
"I've never heard you so happy like this unless it was in the frontlines, killing xenos."
"Why wouldn't I be?" The ancient growled in a non-threatening manner, "Our Legion's fall from grace was a travesty not so easily forgotten. This event has proven there is room for redemption. And soon, all other Legions shall make their soon return when word finally spreads throughout the Imperium."
"Do not forget, wise one..." Alduin reminded, "...that we are sworn to secrecy while the Dominus project has not reached its intended climax. If the enemy hears of this, and they will, what's to stop them from trying to undermine all we have worked for?"
"I have not forgotten, my friend." Galio replied, "But they all must know one day. Until then, as you say, I shall proceed with all due discretion."
True to his word, the ancient kept the secret as much as anyone onboard the unnamed station. Horus, given all the powers at his disposal by the Emperor himself, isolated the floating fortress from the Imperium as well. This was due, in no small part, to the opposition it would cause when the general assumptions of separate factions would be overwhelming- to say the least. Not all were open to this solution, especially the former generation of spacemarines. It would be seen as a move to replace them, as they had done with the Thunder Warriors in the Age of Strife, whereas Horus had done so only to bolster the already beleaguered forces of the Imperium.
He did not wish to replace anyone, and that was that.
When they were finished here, he aimed to reinforce those Chapters most devastated by the wars and retake the scattered bastions of the Imperium. That would mean having to face the hostilities of some Chapters who would undoubtedly believe this to be an act of treason against the Emperor, for whose work had been meddled by mortal hands. A minor problem to some, but not to Horus. For from these doubts springs seeds of dissent, and from dissent breeds treachery- which will inevitably lead to Chaos.
He would tread carefully around the subject, and that was all he could do. Inwardly, he prayed his acts of benevolence would be enough to sway their judgement into a more favorable nature.
Weeks passed, and the 20 Phases of the transformation trials were completed. By the end of the month, amazingly, there were no complications with any of the recruits! All 891 fully upgraded, treated and indoctrinated Dominus astartes emerged absent any taint, flaw or defect! Whether it was due to the intact genetic templates or information within the STC codex, or Horus' pure gene-seed, the results were undeniably the same for every one of them! Horus took this news to heart and rejoiced, welcoming each and every one of his new sons into the reformed Luna Wolves Legion.
Their armor and equipment, as much as their improved state of being, would be the best offered in the Imperium. The finest power-armor, the most advanced variants of bolters, the prototype vehicles of transportation and destruction- Horus spared no expense in spoiling the Luna Wolves of these gifts.
The Bannerless Brethren, seeing that their duty to Horus has ended, expected to be cast aside now that the Luna Wolves Legion had been reformed- a culmination of all Horus' efforts in restoring the Imperium and reclaiming its former glory. They were astounded to find out, however, that Horus decided to offer them a place at his side, continuing their service to him as captains of his new legion.
All, save for Apothecary Ygor, took up his offer and agreed to undergo extensive geno-recreation and cybernetic improvements. Ygor declined respectfully, stating that he had prior commitments to his own chapter and feared that if he threw it aside in favor of Horus would reveal him as a traitor and a glory-hogger.
Horus understood the Apothecary's point of view and did not take offense to his refusal. He had him commended with honors in return for his loyal service and sent him on his way back to Ultramar, where Guilliman had him stationed.
Galio was put in charge of the newly formed specialist group dubbed the Intercessors, a standard multi-role heavy infantry of the Primaris Space Marines and is similar in combat function to a Tactical Squad of standard Astartes or a Legion Tactical Squad of ancient Astartes Legionaries.
Thavos was given command of the Aggressors. They are a new type of Astartes heavy combat support specialists unique to formations of Primaris Space Marines. They are tasked with heavy long-range fire support and have been outfitted with modified suits of Mark X Gravis Power Armour refitted to carry shoulder-mounted missile launchers that can be automatically reloaded from internal stores within their battle-plate. They also wield Flame Gauntlets that unleashing blazing streams of Promethium upon any foes that get in close.
Alduin, Master of the Signal, was not given a specialist task force directly. Rather, the former Emperor's Children astartes lent his skills to form an exceptional intelligence gathering group that functioned as attack coordinators that would prove very effective in complex maneuvers and tactics in the battles to come. None gave them scorn for their choice in specialty, for Horus taught them that strength came in many forms, and the Luna Wolves must complement each other no matter the differences.
Mordekai accepted his duties as captain as he always did, with stoic silence. He already earned a nickname amongst his Luna Wolves brethren as the 'Silent Captain' for his eerie lack of interaction, but for what he lacked he made up with direct and very brutal methods of accomplishing his intended tasks. Hellblasters, as was his unit was called, are Primaris Space Marines who are intended to serve in the role of heavy fire support and are armed with Mark III Belisarius Pattern Plasma Incinerators. They serve a similar combat function as the ancient Legion Tactical Support Squads and to present-day Devastator Squads found among standard Astartes. Mordekai was not one for words, but action, and he showed plenty as examples louder than words could ever be- and was surprisingly loved by his brothers all the more for it.
Graves, having learned much in the ways of the shadow-warrior in his time battling the xenos, became the head of the Reivers. They are a new type of Astartes combat specialist who are tasked for close-combat stealth operations. Their Mark X Tacticus Power Armour has been modified to display a skull-faced helm, to possess enlarged left-side pauldrons and to run completely silently. Reivers are armed primarily to engage in close combat, and all make use of Combat Knives, Power Swords, heavy Bolt Pistols and handheld, deadly versions of the Bolt Rifle. Reivers can also stun enemy infantry with Shock Grenades or deploy deep behind hostile lines via Grapnel Launcher or Grav-Chutes.
And lastly, Otho Galatian was given charge of the Inceptors, a variant similar in combat function to an assault marine squad. They would be instrumental in providing reconnaissance, fast strikes and guerrilla warfare to harass enemy positions.
At last, all was ready. Horus wasted no time in assembling the young legionnaires to prepare them for the tasks set before them. It was the greatest Crusade of the Emperor, the oldest story retold once more. His brothers were still out there, waiting to be reclaimed for the Imperium. Once, earlier in his campaign, Horus was left to improvise with the lack of resources and information required for a clear direction. Akin to divine providence, Horus received word of the possible location of the Primarch Leman Russ. Visions, brought by Russ himself to the Rune Priests of Fenris, showed him battling through the endless hordes of Chaos in an attempt to save the Emperor's fading body.
He heard tales of Russ' quest in searching for the Tree of Life, a mythical font of uncorrupted Warp energy hidden somewhere within the Immaterium that bears fruit said to be able to heal the Emperor and restore Him to full life.
The Tree of Life could only mean Isha, the aeldari goddess that the Emperor had spoken of in their time together on Terra. If Leman Russ was to find her and wrest her away from Nurgle's disease-ridden realm, he would need the Lupercal's help. That would mean he would have to venture towards Fenris, summoning all of the Space Wolves and their succession chapters, uniting them into one legion and venture into the Warp to give his brother his much needed aid.
Suddenly, just as the Luna Wolves prepared to embark on their long trek across the sea of stars, the alarm klaxons blared overhead. An enemy fleet had been sighted on approach vector, directly headed for the unnamed station! "My lord!" Someone contacted the Primarch, "The forces of Chaos are upon us! Confirmation received, it is the Terminus Est!"
Horus frowned, not at all recognizing the flagship's name. "Brother Galio?"
"My lord, that is Typhus' flagship." Galio explained with great abhorrence, finding the name absolutely distasteful on his lips. "He was the traitor Primarch Mortarion's First Captain, and is the dark god Nurgle's chosen apostle. He brings with him the most virulent plagues imaginable, and if he comes for us, he seeks to despoil your Legion while it remains at its infancy!"
"He will do no such thing!" Horus declared, turning to his sons and raising Soulrender high. "Brothers! Sons of the Luna Wolves Legion! Hear me! A pestilent horde approaches, seeking to hinder our attempts to bring the light back to mankind! We will not falter, we will not break, we will bring the fires of hell upon them and cleanse them from this reality!"
His words were met with silent affirmation, all weapons were raised up upon their shoulders in salutation.
"To arms, and may the Emperor guide your aim and keep you!" Galio echoed, donning his helm as he motioned for his battle-brothers to move out.
Upon the Terminus Est, the Chaos Lord Typhus sat upon its command throne, overseeing its filth-encrusted cannon and infected crew. The Terminus Est has become a harbinger of the Plague God. From its bloated launch bays and pustule-studded holds, rusting dropships are vomited down in putrid brown waves. Inside, Death Guard Plague Marines hunch over corroded blades and pitted bolt guns, waiting for their chance to carry out the will of Nurgle. More than merely a vessel, the Terminus Est is a vile legend and symbol of fear for the people of Imperium. Even a whisper of the ship's presence in a sector can send planetary governors and system lords screaming to the Imperial Guard and Imperial Navy for protection. However, when the Terminus Est darkens the skies of a world, there is little that can save its people - their fate sealed as the terrible attentions of the Plague God fall upon them.
M35 was the first confirmed sighting of Terminus Est after the Horus Heresy, and coincided with the outbreak of the Destroyer Plague in the Agripinaa Sector. A wasting disease of terrible and lethal speed, it depopulated a dozen worlds within the space of a month. Each time the shadow of the Terminus Est was sighted lurking at the edge of the affected system.
Once, the Terminus Est - while in a class of its own - was like other warships of the Imperium, its slab-sided hull festooned with guns, its armoured prow bearing the emblems of the Emperor. However, nothing that succumbs to the power of Chaos will escape its mutating effects for long, not even a mighty battleship of the Imperium. Now its ancient bulkheads are held together only by rust, its corridors are choked by the eternally rotting corpses of its crew, and indescribable foulness drips, oozes and dribbles from its every inch. Where once proud plasteel, ceramite and adamantium plates covered its decks, now a living, slick layer of infected flesh dominates. Festering bone shards, rotten fangs and malformed teeth project from every surface. The trapped souls of all those that have served and died upon its decks distort the fleshy walls with their rotting faces, screaming and wailing from their pestilent prisons within the hull. Over centuries in the Warp it has soaked in the very essence of Chaos; it has become a living thing, its decaying form crawling with Nurgle's minions. The halls and chambers of the Terminus Est have been transformed into a reflection of Nurgle's realm. Bloated flies fill the foetid air, while soupy puss drips down from overhead like warm rain. The repellent, twisted things that shamble through this miasma of corruption are barely human any more, bloated with disease and riddled with weeping sores. These "crew" tend to the ship's needs, feeding decaying corpses into its engines or nurturing its garden of shining boils and pustules until they are ready to burst. Only the Death Guard Plague Marines are unhindered by the vessel's contagions, marching about its corridors silent and grim as the ship bears them across the stars. However, in truth, the Terminus Est needs neither crew nor captain to guide it, having taken on a dark sentience from its daemonic patron.
The Plague Lord's gifts have also found their way into the gun decks and weapon batteries of the Terminus Est, and where once macro cannon hurled vast plasma warheads into the void, now strange and horrific growths take their place. Dribbling sphincters line the side of the ship, periodically belching filth out into space; when an enemy ship comes into range they spasm and cough out meteoric torrents of caustic debris. Each discharge is capable of blinding sensors and burning through the hull of enemy vessels. These Warp weapons are just as deadly as any macro cannon or lance turret possessed by the Imperium, and make the Terminus Est a deadly opponent. The rotting hull and distended gun decks of the Chaos vessel have fooled more than one Imperial captain. Only when the Imperial warship draws too close to escape does Terminus Est release its full fury, fleshy cannon yawning wide to bathe its foe in a viscous surge of bile. Worse than the catastrophic hull damage the daemonic weapons can inflict is the contagion they impart. Able to live in the cold emptiness of space or leap through vacuum to infect new hosts, the Destroyer Plague carried by Typhus and the Terminus Est is capable of killing the crew of a compromised ship in mere hours.
Typhus and his flagship are inextricably linked, and the Terminus Est is as riddled with the Destroyer Plague as its captain. Warp-flies fill its corridors and chambers, a seemingly unending stream of glistening insects buzzing across every deck. These same swollen minions of Nurgle also protect the Terminus Est from enemy ordnance or boarding craft, forming a writhing, undulating cloud around the warship. From a distance across the gulf of space this carpet of Warp-flies distorts the shape of the vessel, making it hard for gunners to lock onto a section of the Terminus Est or target any of its vital systems. Any ship foolish enough to try and dock with the Chaos vessel or initiate a boarding action will become enveloped by the Warp-fly cloud, the tiny horrors choking augurs and spilling through hull breaches and cycling torpedo tubes.
Horus' station had been outfitted with the best defenses available at the time, and seemed to hold off the plague fleet well enough for a brief period before the Terminus Est itself began soaking up every ordnance and energy beam lancing through space as it crawled ever closer towards the battle-station. The floating fortress seemed like an easy target, light years away from help and alone in a secluded system. Typhus almost smiled at the carelessness of the Lupercal clone dwelling within its steel walls, but remained cautious. This clone was able to defeat all the forces of Chaos thrown at the Cadian Gate, dethroning Abaddon on the same day and sent many a traitor screaming into oblivion.
He would not make Abaddon's mistake, he made certain of that.
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, the plague fleets were assaulted by a string of quick and very surgical strikes that crippled many of their key attack cruisers and dispatched hundreds worth more of assault frigates. A new player had entered the game, and both Typhus and Horus received this news astounded and shocked beyond words.
The Ynnari, after being held back for so long in the Webway, at last emerged to take part in the Great War that would decide the fates of both mankind and the Eldar.
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Just a few chapters mooooorreeee...