Chapter 1: The Leonine Heresy
AN: Months of work has finally come to fruition. As I'm sure you can guess from the title, this is an alternate history for Warhammer 40k/Horus Heresy, a timeline where the Lord of the First Lion El'Jonson takes his turn at leading a heresy. Big shout-out to Zahariel's Roboutian Heresy for inspiration, he's had so many good ideas it was hard to make my own story and not rely on his. Feel free to review and comment. I hope you all will enjoy my take on what could have been.
The Leonine Heresy
The future is not preordained. Nowhere better exemplifies this than the endless depths of the Immaterium, the mysterious realm parallel to our own. The Immaterium goes by many names: the Sea of Souls, the Empyrean, the Aether, although it is best known as the Warp. However, such names merely scratch the surface of this limitless ocean which is so close to our own reality and yet so far. Scholars of the Warp, their minds protected by the might of the Emperor, have peered into the depths of the empyrean, seeking knowledge of the past and future, what might be and what would have been. It seems time is mutable, that certain courses and paths that our history took might have unfolded differently had certain things been changed. A single action, a single difference in course, and the Imperium as we know it might have been changed radically. This is the tale of the Liber Leonica Heretica, and the thrice-cursed Archtraitor, may the Emperor blight his memory for all eternity.
Halcyon Days: The Great Crusade
It is the 31st Millennium, and the future has never looked brighter. The Imperium of Man is the dominant power in the galaxy, its ascendancy assured through its Great Crusade. The forces of the Emperor have journeyed from one edge of the galaxy to the other, clearing the stars of the enemies of Mankind and reuniting the lost tribes of Man. It is an Age of Reason: all the religions and superstitions of the Age of Strife are being wiped away, the terror of Old Night replaced with the shining beacon of the Imperial Truth. The Crusade has been spearheaded by the Astartes, mighty legions of posthuman warriors, each led by the sons of the Emperor, the Primarchs. The great storms have subsided, and the light of the Astronomican reaches across the galaxy. The enemies of Man, treacherous and brutal xenos, have been cast down. The warlike Orks, the treacherous Aeldari, the insidious Rangda, no alien empire was able to stand up to the might of Humanity, united under the Aquila of the Emperor of Mankind. The Great Crusade cast down all who would oppose the will of the Emperor, and arguably reached its climax when the might of the Legions crushed the final great Ork Empire. On the world of Ullanor, center of the greatest concentration of Orks in the galaxy, the Emperor himself took the field beside a thousand of his elite guardians, the Custodian Guard, over a hundred thousand Space Marines, and his own demigod sons, the Primarchs. The orks were utterly routed, their empire shattered and the survivors fled the region in total defeat. The world of Ullanor itself was remade into a suitable parade ground, entire mountains flattened to make room for an upcoming Grand Triumph to celebrate the Imperium and its warriors. Attended by the varied forces of the Crusade, including representatives from fourteen legions and nine of the legendary Primarchs, the Emperor made an announcement that few saw coming. Having broken the last known enemies who could challenge his rule, the Emperor announced he was stepping down from active leadership in his Great Crusade, and was transferring the power to his nominated successor, one of his Primarch sons, who was to be named Warmaster.
All the sons of the Emperor were superlative warriors and leaders, but to lead the Crusade itself was another thing entirely. However, there were a few obvious choices. Some believed Roboute Guilliman was the natural choice, for it was he who had created the jewel of the east, the colossal realm of Ultramar. Others argued for Sanguinius, for it was he who was said to be most like his father in terms of skill and prowess. Others still argued in favor of Lion El'Jonson, Lord of the First Legion, the renowned Dark Angels. But in the end, none of these could rival the first-found, the Emperor's favored son, Horus, the Lupercal and Master of the Luna Wolves. No other legion could match the tally of conquest that the Luna Wolves possessed, and no other Primarch had fought as long at the Emperor's side. Horus accepted his new title with grace, swearing to prove a worthy successor and uphold the ideals of the Imperium in the Emperor's absence.
Many of his brothers embraced Horus in his new role, though not all. The lines were not so clearly drawn at Ullanor. All of Horus's brothers who were present embraced Horus, and affirmed their commitments to the crusade. First to congratulate his brother was Sanguinius, at whose suggestion the mighty Luna Wolves were renamed to become the Sons of Horus. Less forthcoming were the brothers who were not present at the Triumph, though all sent at least some sort of message or came to congratulate Horus later on. Of particular note was the vocal support of the Lion, who many assumed would react poorly to being passed over, but it seemed this was not the case as he loudly proclaimed his undying support for his brother. Less endearing were the snide remarks from those primarchs not as close with Horus such as Roboute Guilliman, or the bluntly dismissive tones of Rogal Dorn. Nonetheless, Horus had the support of the majority of his brothers.
At the end of the Triumph, the Emperor announced his intentions to call a general council, to rule once and for all on the question of psykers and the Librarius Project, to be held on the nearby world of Nikaea. The Librarius Project had long been a bone of contention amongst the Primarchs: though it was plain to see the benefits of such a project, many argued the dangers of the Warp were too great, and that these 'librarians' were no better than the witches who caused such devastation during Old Night. The Project itself was the brainchild of Magnus the Red, Primarch of the Fifteenth Legion, the Thousand Sons, whose mastery of psychic potential left them unrivaled on the battlefield. Magnus had sponsored the creation of the so-called 'Librarius' in other legions, sending his sons to tutor the Astartes of other Legions in harnessing their natural affinity for the Warp in service of the Crusade. However, Magnus himself was highly unpopular amongst his brothers, a reputation which tarnished the Project. Many accused him of toying with forces beyond his comprehension, a charge levied most often by the brash Leman Russ, which led to incidents and whispered rumors of bloodshed between the Sixth and Fifteenth Legions. It was clear this must be addressed before the Emperor could return to Terra, and so the Council of Nikaea was to decide the issue.
In accordance with the Emperor's words, the forces of many legions gathered months later upon Nikaea. Nearly half the primarchs were in attendance, along with representatives from most legions. However, some legions openly ignored this gathering, most notably the World Eaters and Ultramarine Legions. Regardless of their absence, the Council began, and the Emperor listened to both sides with impartiality. At the heart of it was the son with the most to lose. Magnus the Red, the Sorcerer-King of Prospero, knew his actions were the root of this council, but he did not let it affect his demeanor. After several days of harsh criticism from Mortarion, and many bitter warnings of 'maleficarum' from Leman Russ, it was finally Magnus's turn to speak. He gave a rousing speech, refuting his critics, and it seemed none could match his eloquence. As Magnus took his seat, it seemed like the council would rule in favor of him. However, his honeyed words could not sway the Emperor. Sensing trickery, the Emperor manifested his might in a brilliant golden flash, and ripped away the Glamour and subtle charms present in the words spoken by Magnus. Rising in anger at the temerity of one who would dare to attempt such deception, the Emperor denounced Magnus, censuring him for daring to think he could trick his own creator. In a booming voice that carried throughout the Council, the Emperor pronounced his judgment. The Librarius was henceforth disbanded, and the use of psychic powers was to be banned. The Thousand Sons were to be censured for their reckless use of psychic powers, and to be split up into chapter-sized forces. These groups of around a thousand were to be assigned into a supporting role for other legions, to be kept under close surveillance by the Emperor's own guardians, the vigilant Custodes, thus denied the honor of campaigning on their own. Magnus himself was to be brought to Terra where the Emperor could keep close watch over him.
With the Librarius disbanded, those Astartes with psychic powers were to be returned to the rank and file of their legions, forbidden from ever utilizing their gifts again. To ensure enforcement of this Judgment, the Emperor established the Order of Observance. More commonly known as the Chaplain Edict, this Order established that delegations of the Seventeenth Legion, the Word Bearers, were to travel to every legion to find Astartes of upright character and loyalty to their Primarch and the Emperor, and to train them as Chaplains to ensure compliance with Nikaea. The Chaplains had long existed in the Seventeenth Legion, and it was quite an honor to be selected for such a role. Many had thought Lorgar disgraced due to his former worship of his father, but it was clear the Emperor trusted Lorgar to handle such a task. Lorgar accepted this new honor with a salute, and affirmed his loyalty to the Emperor.
As the Council wrapped up in the following days, Horus took advantage of the gathering of so many of his brothers to cement his vision for how the Great Crusade should progress. He met with each of the brothers who were present, assigning them the tasks needed to continue to grow the Imperium. Those who were not present had their orders relayed to them by the Voice of the Warmaster, Lion El'Jonson. Horus knew that he would be kept busy during the Council, and in order to maintain the progress of the Crusade, a trusted ally would be needed. As a reward for his loyalty, Horus publicly acclaimed the Lion as his right-hand man, deputizing him to act with the voice of the Warmaster. The Lion tried to refuse, claiming loyalty was its own reward, but popular acclaim forced him to accept the role. While Horus watched the proceedings at Nikaea, the Lion traveled far and wide to carry out Horus's commands. These orders included missives to Jaghatai Khan, the Wanderer of Chemos and Primarch of the Star Hunters, who was sent to exterminate the remaining orks of the Chondax system near the ruins of their former empire around Ullanor. Wild Angron of the World Eaters and silent Corvus Corax and his Raven Guard were to go north, to work together in a joint legion exercise designed to create brotherly bonds where none had existed. Those who were more openly obedient towards Horus such as Fulgrim of the Emperor's Children or Konrad Curze of the Night Lords were allowed to carry on their campaigns as before. The Lion even tracked down the secretive primarch of the Alpha Legion, Alpharius Omegon, though he was unsure which representative bearing his name was actually his brother. In the end, most of the primarchs had received their orders from Horus, and it seemed as though he was coming into his own as Warmaster, able to assert his authority even in the presence of the Emperor of Mankind.
Before the Primarchs left Nikaea, the Emperor announced he would not be going back to Terra alone. He spoke of a new position, the Praetorian of Terra, who would be responsible for building the Imperial Palace and turning Terra into the seat of governance for the new empire. It seemed obvious to all that the Emperor would choose between his two sons who were most inclined towards such endeavors: the stern Rogal Dorn and the genius Perturabo, the two who were most skilled at fortification. But the Emperor showed once more he was not constrained by the logic of mortals, and made a third choice, selecting Vulkan, Primarch of the Eighteenth Legion, to accompany him back to Terra. Though a surprise, Vulkan was no doubt qualified for the position: his inventive yet diligent nature would give the Imperial Palace grandeur suiting its status as the seat of governance, while his sons the mighty Salamanders would inspire the citizens of the Throneworld by their very presence. Vulkan was swiftly congratulated on this honor by the gruff Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands, as well as Horus. However, both Dorn and Perturabo grew bitter at such a pronouncement, storming from the gathering and returning to their ships with newfound hate in their hearts. Though both now hated Vulkan, each was bitterly satisfied that the other had not received the honor.
Nearly a decade passed after the Council. On Terra, a vast bureaucracy began to take shape, and despite the fact that many worlds were only nominally compliant, the bureaucrats began to demand tithes to support vast building projects across the Imperium. Horus began to feel the strain of his position as Warmaster and was forced to slow his conquests and delegate more assignments to his sons as he spent the years dealing with the conflicting demands upon his time. The Emperor's departure from the Crusade left many wondering, including Horus, who knew only that his father was working on a secret project deep below the Imperial Palace. Despite the fact Horus and his brothers were made in the image of the Emperor, the primarchs were still only human, and subject to human failings like pride. When the Emperor led the Crusade, none dared question him; now that Horus ruled, many of his brothers chafed at the thought of being ruled by one they saw as an equal. Pride was their unifying trait, though some were better at overcoming it than others. Those brothers, such as Sanguinius, Lorgar, and Konrad Curze, remained close to Horus, though none were closer than the Lion. He remained in constant communication with the Warmaster. His legion, the fearsome Dark Angels, had stepped down from active campaigning as they recovered from their staggering losses in the Second and Third Rangdan Xenocides in the prior decade. The Lion spent much of his time assisting Horus, acting as his intermediary with other legions, traveling to keep check on more independent legions such as the Emperor's Children and Ultramarines. Even the aloof Imperial Fists listened to the words of Horus relayed to them by Lion. Horus tried to keep a hands-off approach, preferring diplomacy to wielding the weight of his office, but it seemed as though the brotherly bonds forged at Ullanor had become only memories. Even as the strains of office intensified each month as more systems were brought to compliance, Horus found new ways to manage and tie together the many armies of the Crusade. This unity of purpose was best exemplified by the bonds formed between the Sons of Horus and their assorted Legion Auxilia.
After Ullanor, a chapter from each legion had been seconded to the Sons of Horus, to assist the Warmaster in his own campaigns as a force known as the Legion Auxilia. Leading these varied forces were the Mournival Majoris, who aided Horus in planning the massive undertaking of the Crusade. The Mournival, once only four members, had expanded into a general council composed of the various legionary chapter masters, though the original four retained leadership. This council brought together the wisdom of each legion, and together they advised Horus on many occasions. Another attempt to forge unity was the creation of the Warrior Lodges. These Lodges were imitations of the Knightly Orders of the First Legion, and were to be places of unity where Astartes could grow in brotherhood. Groups of Dark Angels were dispersed among the legions to oversee the creations of these Lodges, each of which bore a different name depending on the legion. Many legions adopted them in one form or another, though not all. It was hoped that they would inspire unity in and among the legions just as the Mournival had created in the Sixteenth Legion.
Despite Horus's best efforts, more cracks in Unity began to show as the years went on. Bitter Dorn began venting his frustrations on conquered worlds. Using the might of his flagship, the Phalanx, he rained death on world after world, claiming they had refused to submit. His actions went unchallenged until the world of Cheraut, where his brother Konrad Curze, the avatar of justice, stepped in and forcibly stopped Dorn's unjust slaughter of innocents. The two legions seemed to be on the brink of war as the master of the Templar Brethren Sigismund came to blows with First Captain Sevatar of the Night Lords. The Imperial Fists finally stepped down and withdrew when Fulgrim and the Emperor's Children arrived. Meanwhile Guilliman's tally of conquests went from being unmatched to practically non-existent, while other Legions such as the Star Hunters simply stopped reporting. To counter these trends, Horus began to exert his authority more over the affairs of his brothers who had spurned his authority. The Lion began carrying orders to the various primarchs instead of merely checking up on them. This was made more difficult by the increase in warp storms across the galaxy. Though the Astronomican, that beacon of the Emperor's light emanating from Terra that enabled navigation across the galaxy continued to shine, it began to be obscured in many regions. Vast storms clouded the Immaterium in a way that had not been seen since the end of the Age of Strife. More ships were lost in transit, and those that did survive told tales of hideous creatures leering in at them from beyond the Gellar Fields. Such tales were downplayed and ignored, for the Emperor himself had declared such entities were merely xenos that inhabited the warp.
The many expeditionary fleets continued to campaign despite these difficulties. The Sixteenth Legion conquered many worlds, casting down the foe on all sides. Shortly after the compliance of Sixty-Three Nineteen, the forces under Horus came into contact with a civilization known as the Interex. Nominally human, the forces of the Imperium were discomfited to find that this empire accepted aliens amongst their ranks. During negotiations, Horus was treacherously assaulted by foul xenos assassins wielding a blade known as the Anathame of the Kinebrach. This foul blade was poisoned with a virus of unknown yet incredible potency, and Horus rapidly slipped into a coma. Such a violation of diplomacy led to all-out war, and the Interex were ruthlessly annihilated by the outraged Sons of Horus, while the Mournival Majoris discussed amongst themselves what was to be done.
Some, led by Ahzek Ahriman of the Thousand Sons, favored using their forbidden powers to enter the Warp and heal Horus from there, but were swiftly shouted down. Others, led by Corswain of the Dark Angels, favored seeking out another primarch for advice, specifically Lion El'Jonson himself, who was known to be campaigning nearby. Corswain swore his primarch would know what to do, and gave a compelling speech how the Voice of the Warmaster needed to know the state of his brother. Many of the Mournival were initially swayed, until Corswain made a controversial suggestion that the Lion should step up as leader while Horus was incapacitated. The rest of the Mournival now rejected his plan, as they did not wish to spread the news too far lest any hidden foes intercept the message and strike back during the Warmaster's incapacity. Corswain became nervous at this turn of events, and departed to inform his primarch in person over the objections of the other council members, though not before swearing an oath of moment to keep this matter a secret.
At last a consensus was agreed upon. Living up to his reputation for clear and rational judgment, Erebus of the Word Bearers suggested Horus be interred in a stasis vault and returned to Terra for healing by the Emperor. The remaining members of the council swiftly agreed, and the fleet set off for Terra, leaving behind the Legion Auxilia from several chapters to finish ensuring compliance. As soon as they entered the warp, however, an unprecedented storm hit the fleet, scattering their ships and slowing their journey from weeks into months. Warp travel was unreliable at the best of times, and it seemed as though the Immaterium itself was trying to stop them. Horus was rushed into the depths of the Imperial Palace after they arrived, and, through the direct care of the Emperor, was purged of his wound and restored to health, though for the rest of his days he would bear a scar on his back.
After awakening from his coma, Horus was faced with news of disaster after disaster, relayed to him by the Emperor's trusted advisor, the Regent of Terra, Malcador the Sigillite. No word had been received from multiple legions in months, and of particular note was the silence from the realm of Ultramar, where neither astropathic message nor tithe had been received in quite some time. No word had been heard from Angron or Corax, and Jaghatai was as silent as ever. Worst of all, however, was that which occurred on Terra days before Horus awoke. His wayward brother Magnus, kept at the Emperor's side for almost a decade, had taken advantage of the Emperor's absence while he was healing Horus. Magnus had entered a forbidden section of the Palace, and by means unknown, created some sort of rift under the Palace which threatened to destroy Terra itself. Sensing his father coming after him, Magnus had fled Terra, killing the Custodians sent to retrieve him with the assistance of the Thousand Sons who had come to Terra with the Sons of Horus. In the confusion, many forces were now missing, including many chapters of the Legion Auxilia. Horus demanded to know the status of the Emperor, and with reluctance Malcador spoke of a device known as the Golden Throne, an arcane piece of technology hidden at the center of the Imperial Palace where the Emperor sat, using his vast psychic might to hold the rift closed. Malcador informed him that this was the project the Emperor had been working on, though he refused to tell Horus its exact nature.
It was thus up to the Warmaster to bring order to this chaos. Horus swore to right these wrongs, and began marshaling his resources to address these problems. To the far north he sent Sanguinius and the might of the Blood Angels to find Angron and Corax. To the east went Mortarion to find the missing Star Hunters. To the southeast were sent Lorgar and Konrad Curze to find the truth of the silence of Ultramar. Horus had received word from many legions that the forces of the Thousand Sons had fled from their legion minders and were now renegade. It was highly likely they were gathering again as a legion, and so to track them down marched the dreaded Leman Russ and his Rout to hold Magnus answerable for his crimes. Months passed as the forces assembled, and set off to carry out Horus's orders. Horus moved his own legion to situate himself in a position where he could move towards any situation, and there he waited, near the galactic core above the world of Davin.
Shatterpoint: The Death of Unity
Sanguinius's journey north was incredibly swift, and the astropaths reported little Warp activity in the area, with the usual storms nowhere to be seen. The Blood Angels followed the trail of astropathic beacons left by the XII and XIX Legions north, eventually arriving in the Istvaan system. There he discovered the ruins of a vast Imperial fleet, clearly the victims of some great disaster. As the bridge crew named off ship after ship, Sanguinius realized almost all those listed were those of the Raven Guard, though there were a few World Eater ships among them. Evident in their blackened, shattered hulls were the signs that these ships had been destroyed by Imperial weaponry. As the Blood Angels approached the world of Istvaan III, auspexes showed a large mass on the antipodal side of the planet. Moving around, the Ninth Legion scouts were set upon by the World Eaters fleet, which was massed in a way contrary to all Imperial naval doctrine. As Sanguinius vacillated on the proper response, the World Eaters turned their guns upon the planet itself, and Istvaan III shattered, exploding into massive fragments that smashed through the Blood Angels fleet. The Twelfth Legion began to move their fleet into combat positions and started firing on the stunned Ninth Legion, for who had heard of a legion turning on another legion. The various ships of the Blood Angels begged their primarch to make a decision, and, with heavy heart, Sanguinius gave the order to return fire, and battle was joined.
The two fleets battled for hours, dozens of ships falling on both sides. As the tide of battle began to turn in the Blood Angels' favor, the balance was suddenly shifted in the other direction as the flagship Conqueror, chariot ofAngron himself, entered the fray, its guns brutalizing the smaller Ninth Legion vessels. As reports of destroyed vessels continued to come in, Sanguinius felt his irritation and rage grow, and he left the bridge, preparing to board a transport to enter the battle personally. The news of this soon spread to the rest of the legion, who fought ever harder knowing their primarch was to enter battle beside them. The Blood Angels began to fight more recklessly, giving into rage and fighting with unfettered fury, uncaring of their casualties that they took in the process. The long-hidden flaw of the Blood Angels had begun to surface as the death toll mounted, and the Warp itself began to churn around this system where so much blood flowed. All thoughts of reconciliation were forgotten, and the Blood Angels began to fall prey to the long-hidden flaw in their gene-seed as the Red Thirst began to manifest across the legion like never before. Before Sanguinius could board his transport, the World Eater flagship Conqueror rammed the Red Tear, the flagship of the Blood Angels, disabling its shields and allowing Angron to make a teleport assault with his terminator elite. Sanguinius and Angron came face to face, and what Sanguinius saw horrified him, the haze of the Red Thirst fading as he beheld the monster that stood before him. Bedecking Angron's armor as trophies were pieces of Raven Guard armor, and covering Angron's Butcher Nail implants was a bloody scalp with long, black hair. Angron had murdered their brother Corax, and was clearly intent on making Sanguinius his next victim. This was no misunderstanding: there was no going back from this.
The two demigods battled for hours, fighting throughout the length of the ship, and Sanguinius felt his rage grow as time passed. Eventually he could take no more, and he succumbed to his bloodthirst and rage like never before. As he did so, the psychic backlash spread to his sons, and they began to fight with utter savagery, even turning on other Blood Angels when there were no World Eaters left to fight. Sanguinius took the offensive, and was gratified to see the bloodlust in Angron's eyes replaced with confusion as to how he was suddenly on the defensive. Angron attempted to speak, but Sanguinius was past caring, and rushed his brother. Angron attempted to block, but found that Sanguinius had not struck him, instead swooping behind him. As Angron attempted to turn around, he was decapitated as Sanguinius threw the Spear of Telesto, impaling his brother's head to the wall in a tangled mess of gore.
The World Eaters, who had been fighting their own battles around the two warring demigods, immediately lost their cohesion when they saw the death of their primarch. Their bloodlust forgotten, they began to flee back to their transports, their ships preparing to leave the system. Barely a fifth of the World Eaters fleet was able to escape the vengeful guns of the Ninth Legion, and as the last of the World Eater ships dropped off the auspexes, the rage which had filled the Blood Angels subsided. Sanguinius came to his senses deep within his own ship, where he had been pursuing a few unlucky World Eaters unable to escape his wrath. Filled with shame at losing control, Sanguinius returned to the upper decks only to find that the body of Angron had been taken while he was gone. All that was left was the head, pinned to the wall by the Spear. As the Blood Angels began to take account of their losses, they picked up distress calls coming from the nearby world of Istvaan V. The Ninth Legion traveled there and was astonished to find the remnants of the Raven Guard, who had fled to the black desert world after the World Eaters had attacked them. Sanguinius gave the surviving legionaries a few of his ships, and the shattered Nineteenth sailed back to Deliverance. Sanguinius then set off towards Davin to give Horus the news, confusion and rage filling his heart.
Far to the east, the fleets of Curze and Lorgar gathered around the world of Accatran in preparation for their journey to Ultramar. The Word Bearers had brought their entire fleet, hundreds of ships of every size filling the void. In contrast was the much smaller fleet of Night Lords. His visions speaking of impending disaster, Konrad Curze had brought barely half of his sons. The two fleets set sail for Ultramar, arriving at the small world of Konor, where they received a message that Guilliman would meet them at the nearby Veridia system. When the Word Bearers arrived, Guilliman was nowhere to be found, and the Night Lords had disappeared as well, most likely slowed by the constant warp storms which were everywhere within the Ultramar Sector. Days passed as Lorgar waited at Calth, parlaying not with Guilliman but Marius Gage, Steward of Ultramar and Legion Master of the Ultramarines. Gage spoke of massive warp storms that swept through Ultramar, and a treacherous assault from the Thousand Sons, who had fled Ultramar while the Ultramarines tried to track them down. As Gage spoke with Lorgar from aboard his own ship, the star of Calth began pulsing, sending out waves of deadly radiation and changing color. The void shields of the Word Bearer ships begin flickering, and as they finally failed, a massive Ultramarines fleet jumped in, far closer than the usual Mandeville points, and immediately begin firing on the Word Bearer fleet. Gage revealed he had been stalling for time, and the bridge of the Word Bearers flagship was assaulted by monstrous creatures. The Word Bearers fought back, but it was clear they were outnumbered. After putting down the invaders, Lorgar gave the order to retreat from Calth, and so the Word Bearers scattered in every direction. As they attempted to flee, they found the Warp had become incredibly turbulent, which grew progressively worse the closer they got to the sector borders. The Five Hundred Worlds were now sealed within the Ruinstorm, and the scattered forces of the Seventeenth Legion were unable to escape or even send a message to Horus. The Imperial fleets began to travel Ultramar, scattered into many groups and hunted by the twisted sons of Guilliman, as well as the unexpected arrival of the Fifth Legion, the dreaded Star Hunters, who pursued the loyalists relentlessly.
Horus continued to wait in the Davin system, unaware of the treachery occurring at Istvaan and Ultramar as he directed the forces of the Great Crusade, attempting to contact the other legions whose forces had withdrawn from the Legion Auxilia. Fulgrim and Perturabo claimed that they did not know where those chapters had gone; Dorn did not even bother to reply, and so the Lion was sent to find him. Months passed, and Horus began to receive fewer updates from Mortarion and Russ on the status of their hunts. The astropaths reported massive storms had engulfed Ultramar, and so no contact could be made with the forces sent there. Eventually, Sanguinius returned, arriving at the same time as Lion. Both primarchs kept their legions on their ships, and Horus felt as though they were keeping something from him. The Lion said he was able to establish contact with Dorn, claiming the Imperial Fists had been engaged around the Tallarn System where he had taken heavy casualties. However, he had been unable to find the Space Wolves, and so with a heavy heart Horus proclaimed them either destroyed or renegade. The Sixth Legion, as well as the World Eaters, Star Hunters, and Thousand Sons were condemned as renegades from the Imperium of Man.
The Dark Angels fleet moved to the edge of the system to transmit news of the decrees back to Terra. Meanwhile, Sanguinius met Horus privately in the ruins of a temple on the surface of Davin. With outside communications blocked, he presented the head of Angron to Horus, telling him all that he had seen. Sanguinius spoke with shame about uncontrollable rage which had overtaken his whole legion, first during the battle at Istvaan, then a second time on their transit back through the Warp where his ships were assaulted by strange warp entities which could only be called daemons. The more Sanguinius spoke, the more agitated he became. Horus tried to calm his brother, that it was only a gene-seed defect that Horus would keep a secret and that there were no such things as daemons. Sanguinius proved impossible to calm, raving that he would not be condemned like his brothers. He began weeping tears of blood, and roared as he leapt at Horus, his words becoming the ravings of a madman. Horus began to defend himself from the blows of his brother, pleading with him to calm down. Sanguinius had always been one of the most skilled combatants of all the primarchs, and Horus struggled to block a never-ending rain of savage blows. Horus could tell there was no reasoning with Sanguinius; he had fallen to whatever madness had possessed Angron. Though it broke his heart to attack his own brother, Horus used his mighty hammer Worldbreaker to send Sanguinius flying backwards. The Warmaster used this time to call up to his ship and was swiftly teleported away, leaving his maddened brother alone on Davin.
When Horus stepped onto the bridge of his flagship, the Vengeful Spirit, he saw that his fleet was now under attack. The Blood Angels had seemingly fallen to the same madness as their father, and were firing on the Sons of Horus, who were unsure how to react to their cousins turning on them. Horus wasted no time, and gave the order to fire back. He called out to the Lion, whose fleet was in orbit on the outskirts of the system, calling upon his aid to subdue the Ninth Legion. The two fleets were evenly matched, until finally the First Legion fleet entered the battle. As the Sons of Horus and Blood Angels fleets pounded at each other, the ships of the Dark Angels moved into position behind the enemy fleet. The Blood Angels were now surrounded, and for one brief moment, it seemed as though the Blood Angels were about to be annihilated as the Lion's fleet began firing. Then the shots flew past the ships of the Blood Angels, and struck the Sons of Horus fleet. The dream of Unity was dead, killed from within by its own leaders. To his credit, Horus reacted immediately to this new betrayal, and ordered a full retreat towards Terra. Dozens of ships formed a blockade in front of the main fleet, willingly sacrificing their lives to allow their primarch to escape. As Horus's fleet left the system, auspexes showed hundreds of other ships arriving around Davin.
The Heresy Begins
The hour of the Lion had come, but not even Horus knew how wide-reaching his schemes were. While the forces of the Warmaster fled in disgrace, a triumph was held on the world of Davin, a dark mirror of Ullanor years before. Primarchs from almost every renegade legion were present, showing their allegiance to the Lion and the dark gods of Chaos. At its head was Lion himself, seated upon a pitch black throne that matched his armor, and all around him stood his traitor brothers. To his right stood the Sorcerer-King Magnus the Red, pulsing with a malicious aura that reeked of the Warp, his sons reveling in the powers granted by worship of Tzeentch, the Chaos god of Change. To his left stood Fulgrim the Phoenician, his once proud armor now blackened with soot and looking as though it had been rusted for centuries. His Emperor's Children now bore the marks of their Patron Nurgle, reduced in number but festering with disease and radiating an aura of despair. Hulking Perturabo, bedecked in his massive Logos armor and flanked by his Iron Circle, watched the endless ranks of his sons march as he stood opposite of Dorn, his golden armor now faded to the color of stone, who raised his blood red fists in a gesture of hateful triumph. Though Guilliman and Jaghatai Khan were not there, they had sent envoys to proclaim their allegiance. Tens of thousands of Ultramarines marched in ragged formations, led by the arrogant Aeonid Thiel, their armor marked by blasphemous symbols showing their allegiance to Slaanesh, the god of excess, while zooming around them were thousands of outriders from the Star Hunters. Nor were Sanguinius and the Blood Angels present, having quickly left Davin on the advice of Lion to travel to a world known as Signus Prime to claim their own dark destiny.
Having mustered their forces, the assembled might of the traitors embarked and began their voyage towards Terra to fulfill the Lion's designs. In a vast pincer movement, the Imperial Fists and Emperor's Children formed one thrust northwest, and the Iron Warriors and Ultramarines formed another thrust coming at Terra in a southwestern direction. The Dark Angels themselves moved opposite of these forces as they traveled on their own, heading towards the eastern half of the Imperium as they moved to secure the flanks, assisted by the Thousand Sons. The traitors began their march towards Segmentum Solar, and war erupted across the galaxy on a scale to dwarf the Great Crusade itself. Planet turned against planet, system against system, in an orgy of violence that harkened back to the darkest days of Old Night. The Imperium was split, and no one knew who to trust anymore. The Leonine Heresy had begun.
The methods of conquest varied from legion to legion. Some planets were simply annihilated from orbit. The dour sons of Dorn, unwilling to allow their hated rivals the Iron Warriors to reap a greater tally of conquest, would enter a system unannounced, giving the inhabitants one chance to bow before their new masters. If this demand was rejected, or the response simply too slow in coming, as the planetary lords bickered among themselves in how to answer, the Fists would begin bombarding the unlucky world with devastating salvoes, dooming the world to a swift cessation of existence. This they deemed mercy. The death tolls quickly began racking up, leading to the moniker of "Crimson Fists''. Foremost of the Seventh Legion was the dreaded Sigismund, who fought in utter silence, and none could stand before him. He led his own personal fleet separate from the other Crimson Fists, and they cut a bloody path straight towards Terra, slaughtering their way through any unlucky enough to face them.
The Fists' tally of death was matched by their eternal rivals, the Iron Warriors. The calculating mind of Perturabo split his armada into many fleets, as the greater numbers of the Iron Warriors allowed them more flexibility. Some fleets were assigned to destruction, sent to planets deemed unlikely to acquiesce to joining the traitors. Others were sent on recruiting drives, as the guns of the fleet held planets at ransom to yield all able-bodied boys to the merciless embraces of the Angels of Death. The lucky ones died in transit. Those less fortunate were forcibly converted into Iron Warriors, swelling the ranks of the legion to sizes never before seen. Those deemed unfit for conversion were press-ganged into slavery on the ships. A similar fate befell those encountered by the resource fleets, which deployed massive machines designed to strip a planet of all possible resources: minerals, foodstuffs, slaves, all were needed to fuel the traitor war effort.
The Ultramarines took a rather different approach. The overall war was tertiary at best to satiating their own twisted desires, both sating the lusts of individual commanders, as well as converting the populace of planets to the worship of the Ruinous Powers. The fleets specifically targeted worlds that they themselves had originally brought into compliance, those who had experience with the Ultramarines before. Dark temples were erected, and it became a holy duty to desecrate any symbols of order and the Imperium of old. "Do as thou wilt" became the only law on worlds they conquered, as any semblance of governance broke down to be replaced by pleasure cults and anarchy. The Emperor's Children too began to proselytize, spreading the word of Grandfather Nurgle as many worlds rotted in their presence. Meanwhile the Dark Angels clashed with those Night Lords under First Captain Sevatar who had not joined their primarch in the Ruinstorm. Among all these traitors traveled the forces of the Thousand Sons, perfecting their dark arts as they practiced their foul sorceries. Little is known of the Lion's actions during this time, save that he directed the traitor war effort from the shadows. It was not until the Battle of Verzagen that he was confirmed as Archtraitor, where he led the forces of every other traitor legion to shatter the final defenses blocking the way to Terra.
As the traitors set out to establish the Lion's dark imperium, the Sons of Horus fleet limped their way back to Terra, swept by the tides of the Warp in directions they had not intended. They came across all manner of scattered forces as they traveled, victims of traitor assault or simply abandoned by the traitors who had left their mortal allies behind when they traveled to Davin. They united with the shattered fleet of Mortarion, whose Death Guard had been the victim of Star Hunter hit and run ambushes for months, unable to make long warp jumps or call for aid. A standoff developed after Horus learned of the presence of Space Wolf vessels amongst their ranks. Horus demanded to know why his brother was associating with renegades, but Mortarion vouched for their loyalty, for they had come to his aid. Their leader, Thegn Geigor Fell-hand told Horus what he had told Mortarion, speaking of a treacherous assault from Magnus the Red and the Thousand Sons, who used their foul sorceries on a scale never before seen to send Leman Russ and most of their fleet into the Warp. Rescinding his condemnation, Horus welcomed the Space Wolves, and together the fleets made their way into the Solar System, only to find yet another disaster waiting for them there. Mars had fallen under siege, as half the planet rose against the Fabricator General Kelbor-Hal, led by a demented heretek named Belisarius Cawl, exiled decades ago. Reinforcing the Dark Mechanicum forces were tens of thousands of Ultramarines who had somehow arrived on the planet without a fleet. In Horus's absence, Vulkan had used his authority as Praetorian of Terra to order Ferrus Manus and the Tenth Legion to help the Fabricator General in restoring order to the Red Planet. Horus landed on Terra, and met in council with his brothers Ferrus, Vulkan, and Mortarian, as well as the Regent of Terra Malcador the Sigillite. Together, the four primarchs swore to defend Terra from their treacherous brothers, and avenge the fallen.
Any hope of a quick victory on the Lion's part was rapidly dashed as the loyalists made it clear that the Imperium had not fallen yet, taking the fight to the traitors across the galaxy. In space, loyal battlefleets slugged it out with their traitor counterparts in a vast theater of war known as Bastion Omega. The Sons of Horus led the brunt of these attacks, supported by the relentless Death Guard. Their ships were outfitted with new technologies and innovative tactics, the creative minds of Ferrus and Vulkan striving to overcome the unnatural and twisted stratagems of Perturabo. The traitors constantly probed the Imperial defenses in a campaign that took place across hundreds of systems and thousands of light years over the course of years. Victory hung in the balance, tipping back and forth as new forces entered the conflict. The Alpha Legion began to emerge from the shadows, striking the traitors from behind as they created rebellions on occupied worlds. Their primarch, the secretive Alpharius, was reported on battlefields thousands of light-years apart, performing heroic deeds to rival any of his brothers: driving off Sigismund and his forces from Pluto, aiding Lorgar in the Ruinstorm, and dozens of other deeds deemed impossible. The Raven Guard showed they were not yet vanquished, assisting the Alpha Legion in raiding traitor worlds across Segmentum Tempestus. Eventually, the might of the traitors proved too much, as the forces of the traitor legions coalesced into fleets led by the traitor primarchs in such great numbers that the loyalist fleets, with their sagging production, proved unable to keep up with. Each world that fell was one less to supply the loyalists, who were continually undersupplied due to the vast resources sent back to Terra to build the defenses there. Eventually, the heretics broke through the last lines of defense at Verzagen and Beta-Garmon, and so the loyalists retreated back to the Sol System itself, having bought the time Vulkan needed to finish his defenses.
The Solar War
The final hour drew near. The legions of Hell had arrived in a way that shredded the creed of the Imperial Truth; the gods and daemons of old had returned for their revenge, and the rational modern man proved to be no more than an illusion. The years of brutal fighting had changed the rebels: no longer mere traitors and renegades, these were fully-fledged Chaos Astartes, led by their Daemon Primarchs, who were yoked into obedience by the dreaded Archtraitor himself, Lion El'Jonson, Herald of the End Times. Forearmed by knowledge gathered in earlier probing raids, the Everchosen of Chaos sent his fleets in wave after wave, each with a different method of waging war that the beleaguered defenders had to swiftly adapt to, lest they be overrun before putting up enough of a delay. The Lion's many forces blitzed through the most fortified system in history with the speed at which they had conquered the galaxy just years before. The rings of defense fell one by one, each planet and moon taken, every fortress reduced to rubble. The hereteks of Mars were unleashed once more, and Jupiter itself was used by the sorcerers of the Thousand Sons, who turned its Great Red Spot into a colossal lidless eye, burning with fire, a dark beacon to mirror the Astronomican as it called the forces of the damned towards Terra. Hell itself began to empty as endless legions of daemons began to manifest across the Solar System.
Eventually, the skies of Terra grew dark with ships, as the traitor legions spewed forth their taint onto the homeworld of Mankind. In a titanic battle the loyalist fleet was swept from the skies, and the traitors landed in force. However, the forces of Chaos, then as now, proved to be their own worst enemy. The Blood Angels and Ultramarines proved impossible to control, both spreading across the globe to satiate their desires of their dark gods. This proved their undoing, as Vulkan, who was unwilling to simply sit behind the walls of the Palace, had embedded thousands of Salamanders, assisted by the enigmatic Alpha Legion, in the hive-cities, both out of humanitarian concern as well as using them to ambush and destroy vital targets. The Emperor's Children likewise seemed more interested in spreading the Grandfather's message of despair than besieging the palace. Only the Iron Warriors and Crimson Fists obeyed the Lion and besieged the palace from opposite directions, both striving to be the first to breach the defenses, for the Lion had promised the title of Praetorian to whichever succeeded first. The slaughter on both sides was vast, as the legions grinded against each other in a race to see which side would collapse first. The traitor forces fought with wild desperation, urgently trying to crush the defenders, for they knew that if they took too long, the vengeful forces of the Emperor would arrive to trap them. The traitors had taken heavy casualties in their push on Terra, and if the full might of the loyal legions not on Terra were able to join the battle, they would be surrounded and destroyed.
After weeks of fighting, the walls of the Palace began to fall, their protective barriers weakened from the relentless bombardment. The Palace Wards began to retract, allowing the Daemon Primarchs Sanguinius and Guilliman to manifest to lead their troops personally, both legions racing towards the palace to be part of the slaughter. As the wings of the palace fell one by one, and brother fought brother, the scales balanced precariously. Many were the legends born in these dark hours. None can forget the tale of stalwart Ferrus assaulting the Emperor's Children encampment, driving away the creeping rot of Fulgrim while his mighty Avernii honor guard clashed with the Phoenix Terminators. On the other side of the Palace, the heroic Horus and his Mournival cast down the Red Angel that used to be Sanguinius from the heights of the Eternity Wall, banishing the daemon at the cost of his own eye and the life of his favored son Abaddon. While his brothers fought from the front, Vulkan directed the defenses from inside the palace. His sons fought side by side with the mighty Legio Custodes as they desperately battled the traitors, who were finally forced back by the arrival of the long-awaited first ships of the Word Bearers and Night Lords, striking down the traitors from above like vengeful bolts of lightning. Far from Terra, a psychic wave rippled out, felt by all with even the slightest hint of psychic potential across the galaxy. All felt the shriek of rage and disappointment, the mental image of a great red eye pierced by a spear of gold which dissipated the dark beacon in Jupiter as it faded away.
However, Lion himself was elsewhere, his own goals paramount. Since the arrival on Terra, the forces of the Dark Angels had landed in force thousands of miles away from the Palace, and had not joined combat since then. Scouts reported the construction of a massive fortress, a command bunker of sorts, covering their excavation of something in what used to be the techno-barbarian state of Urartu, the ancient cradle of civilization. There they labored in secrecy: even other traitor marines were attacked for getting too close. It was rumored Lion himself was there, seeking something of such great import that the Siege of the Palace itself was secondary. Even as the daemon Primarchs began to fall one by one, their essences cast from the material plane at great cost, still he did not show himself. The Lion remained in his fortress, working on his dark designs, until the unexpected occurred, something that should not have been possible. His dark patrons screamed warnings at the Lion, and he turned, just in time to block a blow from one thought long dead: the long-missing Konrad Curze. The primarch of the Night Lords had not been seen since the Ruinstorm, hidden from the eyes of Chaos and the rest of the galaxy, though he was clearly here now, as a trail of Dark Angel corpses lay strewn behind him.
The blindfolded avatar of vengeance wasted no time in trying to reason or speak with what used to be his brother, striking him dozens of times in the space of a few seconds. Each blow, which would have been lethal to any normal opponent, was blocked with increasing difficulty. Justice itself had arrived: driven by the desire to right the wrongs inflicted on the galaxy and relying entirely on his foresight to see the world around him, Curze began to do the impossible, driving the Lion back, inflicting grievous wounds and rending his once-pristine armor. They fought in utter silence, the Lion Sword flickering with foul energies, a blade meant to kill a god, each swing narrowly dodged by Curze. As the Night Lord and the Lion battled, watched from above by the dark gods, the Emperor of Mankind raced towards them, following the trail of bodies Konrad had left as he slaughtered his way into the Lion's fortress. When the Emperor of Mankind arrived, his eyes beheld a tragic site: the Lion plunging his dark blade into his brother's chest, an echo of the first murder so long ago. At the sight of his son's death, the Emperor's heart was now set on what must be done, and he entered into battle with his fallen son. While they clashed in the material world, a titanic mental battle raged at the same time, as the golden light of the anathema clashed with the energies of the deep warp. The Dark Angels around the site began fleeing, destructive energies from father and son too much to view. A full-scale retreat had begun, as the full might of the Word Bearers and Night Lords had arrived, turning the tide as full-scale void warfare erupted, and traitor legionaries began fleeing to their ships. None of this mattered to the Emperor and the Lion, whose battle began to intensify. The Lion Sword clashed with the Burning Blade of the Anathema. Finally, the Emperor struck one final mighty blow, and the Lion was no more, gone from Terra as if he had never been there.
In the aftermath came the Saint. Lorgar Aurelian stepped out to behold the unthinkable: the Emperor bloodied and near death, his brother Konrad lifeless, and the Lion vanished, the only trace blood in the dust. Lorgar was no longer the man who had worshiped his father: in his place stood a man who had become everything his father wanted him to become, only to arrive too late to save the Emperor. Having mastered his psychic potential, Lorgar had escaped the Ruinstorm and driven off Magnus, and found it easy to reach into the Warp to commune with his father. The Emperor gave Lorgar his last Will and instructions, and Lorgar obeyed. He brought him back to the Palace, and although he knew not what this device was, Lorgar obeyed the Emperor's final command and interred him on the Golden Throne. An exhausted Mortarion stepped down, his once proud body ravaged by the energies he held at bay. The Leonine Heresy was over. Now the task of rebuilding could begin. Now the long war to retake the galaxy could commence.
The Scouring and Beyond: Age of the Imperium
While Lorgar bore the Emperor to his final resting place, the shattered forces of the traitors fled Terra like rats off a sinking ship. The traitor primarchs were the first to withdraw, leaving behind their sons to fend for themselves. With the defeat of the Lion, the pressure of Chaos was lifted, and the storms which had convulsed the tides of the Warp now receded, and the countless daemons began to recede back into the immaterium once more. The traitor Astartes fled to their ships, abandoned by their fathers and their daemonic allies, as they faced a gauntlet of vengeful Imperium firepower, as the Imperial forces emerged from the Palace to chase them back to their landing zone. In the atmosphere above, a great battle raged as the fleet of the Word Bearers and the remnants of Battlefleet Solar took their toll. All cohesion had broken down in their headlong flight, and many ships found themselves with their engines disabled by their erstwhile companions, desperate to slow their former allies down to create more enticing targets to save themselves. Their ragtag fleets made for the Eye of Terror and the Maelstrom, pursued all the way. Back on Terra, Vulkan and Lorgar, assisted by Malcador the Sigillite, began the process of reconstructing the government and creating the institutions of the Imperium, many of which survive to this day. The honored dead were given lavish funerals, none more so than Konrad Curze, his casket carried by his brothers and laid to rest in the Imperial Crypt. None could argue with this, as Nostramo itself had been destroyed during the siege, one last defiant act to spite the Emperor's Children who had come to desecrate it.
Though most fled to the Eye, there still remained an extensive network of worlds under the sway of traitor primarchs, most notably those owned by the Crimson Fists and Iron Warriors. Mars too was in utter anarchy, and it took many years before the Fabricator General was able to reassert his control. Step by step the traitors were driven back as the Scouring (as it came to be known) cleansed the galaxy of their influence. At the forefront of these efforts were the surviving primarchs. Horus lived up to his title as Warmaster, leading the Scouring from the front, assisted by his brothers Ferrus and Mortarion, though all loyalist primarchs took part in restoring the Imperium. Together the three primarchs proved to be an unstoppable force, forcing the isolated forces of the enemy to flee at every turn. As they drove the traitors from the stars, other forces led the effort to retake planets which had simply declared independence during the war, thus preserving the progress made during the Great Crusade. Their task was made easier by the complete disunity which had gripped the traitors, who fought each other as much as they did the Imperium. Without the Lion to maintain unity, the Crimson Fists and Iron Warriors attacked each other, besieging each other's worlds across the galaxy, and the colossal slaughter resulted in the defeat of the Crimson Fists, though they had inflicted enough casualties on each other that the Imperium was able to swiftly take their many garrison worlds which might have otherwise taken decades. In the galactic east, the Ruinstorm faded completely, leaving behind only ruins where the forces of the Word Bearers crushed the Thirteenth Legion before driving them into the Maelstrom.
As the Scouring progressed, many missing loyal forces began arriving on Terra, most notably a force of Space Wolves led by their primarch, Leman Russ. Having been missing for half the war, and absent from the Siege of Terra, many had doubted their loyalty. After a tense standoff, the Space Wolves were allowed to land, and Russ himself emerged. Gone was the boisterous, jovial primarch, replaced by a scarred, wiser man who looked as though he had aged decades. After a night of council with Malcador and Lorgar, Russ returned to his fleet, and set out to join the Scouring. Missing an eye and wielding a massive power axe, Russ truly lived up to his title of executioner in those days; no traitor could stand before him. It was he who gave the order to destroy the disease-wracked world of Chogoris, and it was he who bore the body of Lorgar back to New Monarchia to be honored in the Shrine of the Aurelian after his death at the hands of Guilliman. With the last of the traitors defeated, the rebuilding of the Imperium could commence.
Centuries rolled into millennia, and one by one the loyalist primarchs disappeared: Mortarion, Ferrus, and Russ simply vanished, while Horus and Lorgar died in battles during the Scouring. Last of all to go was Vulkan, though some say Alpharius was still around somewhere. Malcador the Regent disappeared as well, and thus mortal men were left to maintain the realms of Mankind in their absence. The sprawling edifice of the Imperium was left to its own devices, and swiftly came under assault once more. The forces of Chaos, once thought defeated, resurfaced like a cancer. At the start of M32, nearly a millennium after the Heresy, a vast armada of traitors erupted from the Eye of Terror, a fleet of twisted ships led by Sigismund the Destroyer, who had cast aside the legion of his father to become master of a host calling themselves the Black Templars. The First Black Crusade rampaged towards Terra, destroying planets seemingly at random before finally being stopped by the forces of a new legion of Astartes that called themselves the Grey Knights. This elite force halted the traitor rampage, and Sigismund returned to the Eye. The Imperium recognized this vulnerability, and swiftly set up defenses around the Eye of Terror and Maelstrom to ward off future assaults. Thus was founded the fortress world of Cadia. Even as the Imperium recovered from the ravages of Chaos, it came under assault once more, this time from the barbaric orks, united in the largest numbers seen since the days of the Great Crusade. Though the xenos were repelled, the Imperium was never able to truly recover, constantly coming under assault from all sides, including from within. Thus it was never truly able to recover from the Leonine Heresy.
Time marched relentlessly on, and the Imperium marched with it, stagnating under its own weight and driven forward by inertia for ten thousand years. The small institutions founded by the primarchs took on life of their own as the building blocks of a new pan-galactic civilization, cementing the efforts of the Great Crusade and Humanity's influence across the stars as the dominant power. The days of the Crusade and Heresy became distant memories, and the giants that had shaped them were left to history, legends of a bygone era. New sectors were claimed as others were lost to the innumerable menaces amongst the stars, held at bay only by the might of the newly formed Imperial Guard and the elite forces of the Legiones Astartes. Heresy and rebellion continued to rear its ugly head, kept at bay by the scalpel of the Inquisition. The Emperor's own philosophy of the Imperial Truth was quietly forgotten, and the Ecclesiarchy rose to take its place, uniting mankind in the worship of the God-Emperor and his demigod sons.
In the Eye of Terror, the Emperor's Children, Iron Warriors, Blood Angels, and Thousand Sons wage their wars for dominance, their unity a thing of the past. The legions are now fragmented into warbands, though some occasionally unite for short periods at the call of their primarch or for a raid against the Imperium. However they spend most of their time in a contest with no winners, constantly squabbling in struggles that sap their strength in pursuit of the ephemeral whims of their dark patrons. In the Maelstrom, the Ultramarines hold sway, though their domains are constantly under attack by the warbands of the Fifth and Twelfth Legions, who cast aside their former names to become the White Scars and War Hounds as they wreak havoc across the galaxy. Standing apart from all are the Black Templars, who, under the leadership of Sigismund the Destroyer, have cast aside their former allegiances and painted their armor black, sworn only to do the will of Chaos.
The Dark Angels remain one of the more coherent legions. Though they are scattered, they all recognize the Rock as their domain, a colossal space hulk deep within the warp, made from the ruins of their former planet Caliban after it was destroyed during the Heresy. There they plot, venturing out on dark quests in a twisted parody of knighthood. Few can stand up to the daemonic cavalry known as the Ravenwing, or match the resilience of the bone-white Deathwing. Whispers abound of a dark secret that the chapter keeps, known only to the inner circle of the legion, knowledge they will do anything to keep hidden.
The Emperor's Children took the fewest casualties during the retreat from Terra, their unnatural rusted and corroded armor taking impossible amounts of damage due to the resilience granted by their dark grandfather, the Chaos god Nurgle. Their homeworld of Chogoris was destroyed during the Scouring, so they have made their home in a Hive-world inside the Eye of Terror, a planet saturated with the sickly aura of decay, its population consisting almost entirely of mutants. Their primarch Fulgrim spends his time in elaborate court rituals, designed to appease their patron, who blesses them with rains of putrid filth in a cycle of endless death and rebirth on a colossal scale.
The Emperor's Children may have lost the least number of legionaries, but it is the Iron Warriors who are by far the largest traitor legion. The Fourth Legion has always been massive, and even with a third of their strength left on garrison worlds scattered across the Imperium, they still spearheaded the drive on Terra. After the Heresy, they clashed with the Crimson Fists, drawing in the forces of their garrisons to break their rival empire in what came to be known as the Iron Cage Campaign, though this weakened them enough that the Imperium was able to root them out afterwards. Nevertheless, it is said that hundreds of thousands of Iron Warriors escaped to the Eye, where they gathered around their primarch Perturabo. Perturabo is not yet a daemon primarch as he rules the factory world of Medrengard, center of a vast empire inside the Eye itself. A pact with the Forge of Souls has kept his legion well supplied, and his Iron Warriors march to war across the Eye, supported by hideous daemon engines and the dreaded Kai Bane Host. Perturabo bows to none of the chaos gods, though some say he has found a new patron in the deep warp, an entity that, while not existing, still exerts its will, for nothing is certain in the Warp.
In stark contrast to the industrial uniformity of the Iron Warriors stand the most fractured legion of all, the Fifth Legion. The bitter sons of Jaghatai have painted their armor blood red with white scars streaking across their helmets, and thus they have come to be known as the White Scars, though some call them the Red Corsairs. They eternally roam the Maelstrom, embodying the destructive anarchic nature of Chaos like no others. The White Scars hold no worlds as their own, and they serve only themselves as they constantly attack the domains of the Ultramarines who seek to build their decadent kingdom there. The White Scars equally treasure and revile the memory of their primarch, betrayed and killed during the Heresy, and thus they are willing to make alliances with almost any traitor legion, or even xenos, to satisfy their thirst for revenge.
The blood-soaked Crimson Fists have fallen far from their glory days as the Imperial Fists. They proved to be no match for the sheer size of the Iron Warriors, and in the wake of the Heresy, their strength was sapped by the Iron Cage Campaigns. With nothing left but hate and bitterness, Dorn has withdrawn into the Deep Warp in his massive fortress the Phalanx, which has not been seen for ten thousand years. Few of his sons remain by his side, and those who still wear the colors of the Crimson Fists remain active, carrying out their father's will as he contemplates the true nature of Chaos. In the wake of their father's absence has risen Sigismund the Destroyer, who has united the shattered legion to become the Black Templars. Though primarily made up of the Crimson Fists, the Black Templars accept every traitor, renegade, or exile, and have become a force to rival the Iron Warriors in size. They have many worlds that pay fealty to them, and Sigismund has used these resources to lead the Templars as they strike out in massive Black Crusades that threaten to tear the Imperium asunder.
The Blood Angels rule a world of ash and soot in the eye, a volcanic world covered in rivers of blood and thorny forests where feral tribes eke out a brief existence. The entire world is at war with itself, and ruling over it all are the rage-filled berserkers of the Blood Angels and their monstrous primarch Sanguinius the Red Angel, who leads his horde on a constant rampage across the planet in a war of all against all. These warbands, led by their Sanguinary Champions and their Gore-magi advisors, constantly assault the nearby realm of the Firetide, where they clash with the Legion of the Damned in the regions of the Warp that are touched by the light of the Astronomican. Such slaughter pleases their master Khorne, empowered by the blood constantly flowing in his name.
Joining the White Scars in raiding the domains of the Ultramarines are the former World Eaters, now known as the War Hounds. After the fall of their primarch and betrayal several times over during the Heresy, the World Eaters cast off their chains, scorning Angron as weak and set off to carve out their own anarchical domain, ravaging worlds across the Imperium until forced to flee into the Maelstrom during the Scouring. The once numerous XII Legion are now the smallest of all the traitor legions, though they remain incredibly deadly. Anarchy and terror follow in their wake, and order of any kind is erased in their path. Now the Sacred Bands of the War Hounds raid the domains of Imperial, Xenos, and Chaos alike, urging their victims to cast off their chains and embrace the liberation that is to be found in Chaos.
Undisputed masters of the Maelstrom, the Ultramarines have truly fallen to the worship of Chaos. After the Scouring and the dissipation of the Ruinstorm, the Ultramarines were forced to flee to the Maelstrom where they have created a domain of excess, a mockery of a solar system where every warband is sovereign over a moon of their own, in a vile parody of the Imperium. The center of each domain is a massive temple to Slaanesh, where worship of the Prince of Pleasure is secondary to worship of self, where each Ultramarine can rise or fall based on his ability to subjugate others. All of these moons orbit a replica of Macragge made from priceless gems and solid gold, a testament to greed, and at the center of this domain of excess lies Roboute Guilliman himself, now a giant, perfect in every way, surrounded by mirrors and his adoring sons.
The witch-lords of the Thousand Sons perfect their craft on the Planet of the Sorcerers Sortiarius. A vast library world, the Crimson King Magnus the Red remains at the heart of an impossible tower, serving only the will of his patron Tzeentch as his Sons assault the galaxy as they act to further their many schemes, foremost of which remains to enter the Black Library. Knowledge is power, and the Black Library holds enough knowledge to give the Thousand Sons the power they need to enact their vengeance on the Space Wolves and the Emperor of Mankind. Their crimson armor has now transformed to blue, and sorcerous mutations abound within the Fifteenth Legion. At Magnus's side stands Ahriman, the Osirian Dreadnought Lord, a vast network of cabals, and hordes of Rubricae, all puppets of the Architect of Fate.
It is now the dusk of the forty-first millennium, and the Imperium has never been closer to collapse. The savage orks gather in numbers never before seen, feeding off the constant crucible of war. The mindless Tyranids swarm at the Eastern Fringes, devouring all in their path. The legions of Chaos attack without end, inciting rebellions across the galaxy as the forces of Sigismund the Destroyer and his Black Templars strike out in their latest Black Crusade aimed at the fortress worlds of the Cadian Gate. Opposing all the beleaguered defenders of Mankind, but the Imperium now hangs on a razor's edge as never before. It is clear to all that these are the final days, and Mankind must not go quietly into the night, but steel themselves for the tolling of the bell. The End Times come.