The Leonine Heresy

by Sharrowkyn

Inspired by the Roboutian Heresy, this is the tale of Lion El'Jonson's fall to Chaos as he leads half of his brothers (and not necessarily the ones you might think) in rebellion against the Emperor. All Index Astartes entries have been completed, and now we are journeying through the various War Zones of the 41st Millennium.

16. Index Astartes: White Scars

Chapter 16: Index Astartes- White Scars

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Index Astartes- White Scars: Red Corsairs, Black Hearts

With the roar of motors and the screams of engines, the rapacious White Scars let loose their chilling war-cries as they come to despoil and plunder. For ten thousand years, they have preyed on countless worlds, prowling the Maelstrom in a never-ending quest to satiate their boundless avarice and cruel pride. Long ago, they were the Emperor's Fifth Legion, the Star Hunters who mapped the galaxy as they served as the trailblazers of the Great Crusade. However, they and their primarch, Jaghatai Khan, were gradually pushed to the wayside, nurturing a poisonous resentment that the Archtraitor was quick to twist to his advantage. Yet even after spitting upon their oaths of loyalty, these traitors found themselves betrayed, which saw their father slain and the legion humiliated. Faced with such a devastating reversal, the Fifth spurned all their remaining ties and cemented a hatred of both their father and the Imperium itself. Now they are the White Scars, a legion of outcasts who have no allies or rivals, only victims and prey, and their callous disregard for civilization has made them enemies of all mankind. They are hunters without peer, living storms who descend without warning, taking everything of value and leaving only despoiled ruins in their wake. Neither Imperial Governor nor Champion of Chaos can ever trust the sons of a shattered world, and all cower in fear when the Corsairs come calling.

Origins: The Forgotten Sons

From the beginning of the Unification Wars, those glorious days which resulted in the Emperor emerging from seclusion to begin his conquest of Terra, he was always looking to the future. His far-seeing eye was cast far beyond his immediate surroundings or objectives, always looking to the stars as he planned the days to come. The Master of Mankind knew full well that to conquer Terra, or even the Solar System, would never be enough, and that a galaxy left alone would never leave Mankind alone. The conquest he proposed was nothing less than madness, or perhaps genius, for with the destruction of the Aeldari Empire, the galaxy was open for domination for the first time in human history. Thus while other armies of Astartes and Thunder Warriors marched across Terra, the Emperor's Fifth Legion was already prowling the stars, seeking out new life and new civilizations, and marking them for conquest or extermination. Originally taken from the tribes of the Thulean Basin, the warriors of the Fifth were solitary hunters, the eyes and ears of the nascent Imperium that operated in Pioneer Companies no larger than a squadron or two, for they numbered no more than a scant few hundred. While other legions won glory on the battlefields of Terra, the Fifth Legion were already braving the unknown, pathfinders working to destabilize and gather intelligence, and for this they were named 'Star Hunters', for even the depths of space were not safe from their keen eyes.

The Astartes of the Fifth cast many foes down in their explorations. From the Black Catacombs of Kadiru, to the Albian Fortress of Dubris, the Star Hunters put an end to countless threats before the rest of the Imperium was even aware of their existence. The Emperor's watchful eye remained fixed on the Fifth, for they were one of the most vital tools in his arsenal, but to the rest of the Imperial warmachine, the Fifth were no better than scouts, their heroic deeds unrecorded and unremembered. As a result, they were perennially regarded as a low priority when it came to reinforcements and resupply, an afterthought at best, and so they did not grow as quickly as the other legions. Even the Selenar Gene Laboratories remained unconcerned with the Star Hunters, and in multiple cases, actually diverted gene-seed production away from the Vth, a slight that could only be assumed but not proven. The legion master, Haren Svensellen, was well aware of how little he and his brothers were regarded by the rest of Imperium, but there was not much he could do. Born on the tail-end of the Unification Wars, Svensellen was one of many recruits who sought to join the Sixteenth Legion, but poor performance in the aspirant trials saw him and many others assigned to the Fifth Legion instead as a replacement for casualties they had taken during the Sedna Campaign. Svensellen and his brothers knew little of this legion aside from the fact that they were understrength. However, he quickly turned this to his advantage, rising through the ranks to become Fifth's first legion master when it became large enough to warrant one. It was under his leadership that the Fifth forged close ties with the Navis Nobilite houses and their abhuman Navigators, joining his companies to accompany the various exploration fleets and sending their findings back to Terra.

Life was not all bad for Terra's Forgotten Sons: sent far beyond the rest of the Crusade fleets, the Fifth Legion took its orders from the Emperor alone. The Star Hunters were cold and pragmatic, a necessary adaptation to the horrors of the outer dark that they faced on a daily basis. Each raid cost them dearly, many brothers lost to ill-fortune, and slowly they were worn down, but never did they consider asking for aid. The Fifth were a proud brotherhood, the solitary defenders protecting the rest of Mankind as they struck again and again without warning to topple every foe they faced. It was they who discovered the Mining World of Cthonia, sending back the report of a world filled with 'a nest of serpents coiling in the dark that we would be better to destroy', a message whose consequences would be unthinkable had it been carried out. That glorious day heralded the first reunion of the Primarchs, the Emperor's long-lost sons, for upon Cthonia was Horus Lupercal. The Firstfound always retained a deep-seated gratitude toward those that reunited him with his father, and when the time came for him to lead his own legion, he was quick to adopt the hit-and-run maneuver warfare that the Star Hunters had perfected. Svensellen had never forgotten his desire to join the Sixteenth Legion, so he was quick to seize upon the opportunity to spend time training them, becoming close friends with Ezekyle Abaddon, his counterpart in the Luna Wolves.

However, this alliance was the only one established by the Fifth in those years, for aside from the cohort led directly by Svensellen, the rest of the legion refused to make the effort to forge bonds with their cousins. Split into dozens of Pioneer Companies, the Star Hunters fiercely valued their independence, returning to Terra to resupply only when absolutely necessary. Duty was what gave their lives direction and purpose, not fraternal bonds, and few among them could understand why the other legions seemed to care so much about finding their primarchs. Thirty years passed, and another three primarchs would be found, but the Star Hunters cared not, remaining out on their far-ranging explorations and keeping to themselves. Even Svensellen cared little, almost seeming to prefer to have Lupercal as his primarch rather than whomever his true gene-father may be. However, his time with the Sixteenth, and the independence of the legion entirely, was about to come to an end, far sooner than they or anyone had anticipated. Out of nowhere, the Emperor ordered the entire Fifth Legion to his side, and when they had gathered, he announced to them that he had discovered the location of their long-lost father, upon a world southeast of Terra known as Chemos.

Chemos: Terminal Neglect

Located just south of the second-largest Warp storm ever recorded, the blighted scar upon reality known as the Maelstrom, the Aquitane Sector never had been and never would be self-sufficient. From its earliest settlement before the Age of Strife, the desolate world of Chemos was a mining world of unimaginable wealth. It was merely one of many such worlds in the region known as the Pale Stars, whose sickly wan light was filtered through thick nebular dust clouds formed from the detritus kicked up by the Maelstrom. For centuries it traded away its minerals in exchange for luxuries, attracting countless millions to its mines at a rate only sustainable by large-scale importation. Vast city-factories covered its surface, and while it was hardly a paradise, it was prosperous and civilized. However, everything changed with the Age of Strife. As the storms of the Maelstrom began to intensify, interstellar trade dried up in proportion to the difficulties of Warp travel, and the people of Chemos began to suffer. Standards of living began to decrease with each passing generation, a self-destructive process in which older generations preyed upon the younger, unwilling to give up the steadily-dropping levels of creature comforts to which they had been accustomed. Art and culture were jettisoned, for all spare resources began to be needed for survival, and a culture of ruthless efficiency grew up in its place. As the workforce declined from starvation, the cities began to dry up as well, until there were only a handful across the entire planet, only several hundred million inhabitants where billions once lived. Short on material and energy, the remaining city-factories were forced to rely upon declining synthesizers, endlessly recycling an ever-shrinking food supply. Order was maintained at gunpoint by the Executives, descendants of the factory-owners, who held a ruthless grip over the proletariat who eked out a miserable existence in the perpetual twilight.

It was to such a world of misery and squalor that the meteor pod bearing one of the Emperor's stolen sons landed. Cast through the Warp, now far less turbulent than in centuries past, it is said the powers that be struggled over the fate of its inhabitant, a mythologized confrontation between the Ruinous Powers and the pod's creator, the Emperor of Mankind. There are those that believe another pod was meant to have arrived in its place, but such can never be confirmed. Whatever the case, the pod bearing a demigod streaked through the empty skies of Chemos, bypassing the factory-city of Callax to land in the deadlands beyond, where the last remnants of freedom still existed beyond the iron grip of the Executives. Beyond the iron walls of the factory-cities, roaming tribes of nomads fought without cease to secure their existence, and it was one such tribe, the Sulpha, who discovered the pod and its inhabitant, a young boy whose radiant features seemed out of place in the gray wastelands of Chemos. The boy's appearance seemed to shift, different for all that looked upon him, and as such the wild folk knew they had discovered something uncanny, something beyond human. However, they were not a people who feared death, and they took the boy in, naming him Jaga Tikan, a phrase which might also be translated as 'take care', for all could tell this child was somehow dangerous.

As if to prove their intuition correct, Jaga Tikan grew swiftly, quickly becoming a man in only a few short years. He effortlessly mastered everything he set his mind to, and soon assumed leadership of the Sulpha, a role he accepted only reluctantly. He was an ephemeral being, the perfect nomad who was always on the move, and it is said he was never happier than when practicing the sword-dancer techniques of his people, a cultural practice both aesthetically pleasing and utterly deadly. It is said Jaga Tikan was stoic to the point of surliness save for when he was fighting, a mellifluous sound that carried throughout every battlefield on which he fought, inspirational to his clan and a terror to his enemies. The Sulpha soon became the most powerful tribe in the wastes, their kabanyan or encampment a place of splendor, but they remained apart from the other tribes, for the badlands could not support a large gathering. Jaga Tikan and his clansmen were a force of nature, constantly on the move and taking what they willed in order to survive, be it from other tribes or from the city-factories, and they lived a life of plenty and ease. However, their increased accumulation of wealth and resources was detrimental to a planet already on the downward spiral. As the decades passed, more and more died of starvation in the sweatshops of the factory-cities as trade caravans gradually stopped, unable to make it through the gauntlet of raiders. Poverty became endemic even amongst the Executives, and worker protests began to cease entirely, for none were any better off than the others.

Where his brothers saw opportunity for conquest, for empire, and acted on it, the Emperor's Fifth Son never did the same. He was a creature of elemental passion, moving from deep brooding melancholy to unbridled laughter in the blink of an eye. His towering emotions and sheer physical presence cowed everyone he met, even the haughty Executives, and many begged him to assume the mantle of Supreme Executive, to rule over Chemos and bring it into a golden age. Few men have ever had the strength of character to turn down such authority and power, but Tikan remained uninterested, though uncaring would be a more apt description. The suffering of hundreds of millions of starving wretches was of no concern to him, for his attention rarely strayed beyond the interests of his own tribe, an outlook reinforced by the self-serving credo of the Sulpha. Tikan cared only about himself, but even with this selfish attitude, he still became the undisputed master of the wastes within thirty years of his arrival. The five hundred or so million people of Chemos rapidly shrank to less than one hundred million, and it seems likely that as time passed, this number would only continue to decrease, a Malthusian death spiral from which there was no recovery. Thus when a golden vessel entered the skies of Chemos, there were no checkpoints to pass through, no ineffectual challenges to its authority forthcoming from its somber and silent cities. The people of Chemos had long since ceased to care about anything other than base survival, their famine-gripped mines empty and their factories churning out a pittance of what they had even a few years before. This delegation of outworlders moved through the streets without challenge, despite their strange appearance and fantastic origin, and soon discovered the only lively place on the miserable world that was Chemos, the kabanyan of Tikan.

The golden-armored man stood alone in the middle of the encampment, a look of disdain upon his face. As he looked about, taking in the opulence and barbaric splendor on display, his scowl only deepened, a glare which cowed the superstitious Sulpha. Only the chieftain remained unbowed, defiantly standing at the entrance of his tent. None had ever defied the chieftain, for he was larger than any man, but this outworlder towered over even him.

"Is this it?" The giant asked, in tones of disbelief. "I must admit, my sons have had varying records. One was only a child, others were conquerors, still another was an explorer. But this is just… pathetic." Jaga Tikan remained unmoved, though his clansmen could see the anger in his eyes at the outworlder's words. "This world is dying, and you have merely feasted on its suffering. However, I am not in the habit of letting my tools go to waste." Hearing such arrogant claims, Tikan could hold his fury back no more.

"I belong to nobody!" Even as he spoke, Tikan was whirling across the space between them in the blink of an eye, his blade slicing upward to take off the outworlder's offending head. His blade shattered upon the man's skin.

"Your fury is wasted upon me. You were made for so much more. Come, the galaxy awaits us." The man turned to walk away, and for the first time, Jaga Tikan was uncertain of himself. However, the man's words had caught his attention. Something beyond the gray wastes of Chemos? This he had to see.

Great Crusade: Masters of the Ice-Blue Heavens

For the first time in his life, Jaga Tikan felt shame. Following the man calling himself the Emperor, the primarch gazed upon the wonders of Imperial technology aboard a ship capable of traversing the very stars themselves. Looking down upon the gray dead world of Chemos, now so small compared to the vastness of the void, Tikan's passions metamorphosed from shame into a sudden, burning anger. In that moment he knew the early years of his life had been an utter waste, exploring empty dust plains instead of the beautiful stars. The primarch quickly swore allegiance to the Emperor in exchange for the ability to travel the galaxy, and received a legion in return. The Master of Mankind offered to bring Tikan to Terra, to tutor him as he had the primarchs found before him, but the Wanderer of Chemos rejected him, for he sought to begin exploring immediately. As their father roamed the endless corridors of the Bucephalus, the Emperor's flagship, Svensellen and the other Star Hunters observed him remotely, unsure what to make of their father. The legion master in particular felt a profound sense of disappointment: he had always known that none could compare to Lupercal, but even the other primarchs had been more impressive than this tribal warlord whose domain seemed so pitiful compared to the splendor of Terra.

Thus from the beginning, Tikan had a strained relationship with his sons. As the one of the earliest primarchs to be found, the reunion process was far from the streamlined affair it would later become, and so none thought it unusual that the Star Hunters had a unique reaction to their father just like the other four legions had before them. None were sure what his leadership style would be, and while most were cautiously optimistic, others such as Svensellen felt resentment at the man who would surely transform the legion in his image. This was something they had observed occur in the other four legions which had found their progenitors: some had transformed dramatically, such as the Iron Hands, where others had changed over time along with their primarch as he aged, such as the Luna Wolves. However, Jaga Tikan quickly reassured them that their name and method of operations would not change, for he too wished for the freedom that came with being a bituon tigpangita, a Hunter of the Stars. His only command was that they keep up, for he would wait for nobody. However, this promise soon turned out to be a lie, as Svensellen and the other Terrans learned to their chagrin, for while Tikan desired to leave the gray and somber Chemos behind, so too did many of its people. Many of these tribesmen accompanied the primarch offworld, the youngest of them undergoing the deadly process of becoming Astartes, and the legion soon grew in size.

Now in the hands of an Imperial governor, Chemos began to stabilize in population as its overseers imported indentured factory workers on a colossal scale. Trade ships began to stream into the Aquitane Sector, creating a metropolitan mishmash of a civilization built atop the smoldering embers of Chemosian civilization. This eclectic mix of somber factory serfs and exuberant Sulpha nomads was joined with the more uniform Terran culture to create a new amalgamation which many of the Terrans began to resent for sidelining them to a greater extent than ever before. The awkward mixture of dialects and languages proved difficult for them, as well as many other Imperials, and mistranslations abounded in the news reels of Terra, including the primarch's very name, which was misspelled and mispronounced into the appellation which many archives still bear to this day: Jaghatai Khan, or just the Khan. The sole remaining trait of any prominence still lingering on was the desire for efficiency and speed, which was quickly reflected in the blistering rate in which they began to conquer worlds. So too were they brutally honest, forthright and direct in their speech, which was a trait derived from not only the desire for efficiency, but also a practical necessity considering the melange of cultures their recruits had come from.

Though he did not care one way or the other, Jaga Tikan's decision to immediately begin campaigning rather than meet his brothers soon began to bear poor results with his brother primarchs. From the beginning, the primarch of the Star Hunters did not get along with Leman Russ, whom he saw as a condescending barbarian, nor did he care for Vulkan, the sixth-found primarch. He had better relations with Horus Lupercal, and on multiple occasions the Star Hunters and Luna Wolves campaigned side by side, an initiative spearheaded by Legion Master Svensellen, who continued to use his authority to maintain ties with the Sixteenth Legion. As the fifth-found, Tikan found himself meeting new primarchs every time he returned to Terra, but he quickly grew to despise these meetings, for almost all of them tried to look into his past only to look down on him for failing to conquer his homeworld as they had. Thus the Star Hunters remained on the fringes of the Great Crusade for many decades, achieving perhaps the greatest rate of compliance though not the greatest number, for the limited population of Chemos meant the Fifth never grew to rival the largest of the legions. For well over a century, they acted as the scouts and outriders, keeping their conquests to themselves and thrilling in the wild rush of victory. The Star Hunters were like living wildfire, the uncatchable masters of the heavens. Tikan seemed to be determined to leave his past behind, and even the engines of his starships were adapted to service this goal, equipped with experimental drives to increase their velocity and maneuverability.

However, a festering resentment continued to grow in the Fifth Legion, a canker whose heart was Legion Master Svensellen and the other Terran veterans. While the Khan had accepted their suggestion to splinter the legion back into dozens of Pioneer Companies once more, the Terrans resented the poor image that their primarch had created for them. Where the other sons of the Emperor were almost-universally lauded and respected, the Fifth was nothing more than an afterthought at best. While they had never been in the spotlight, at least the Emperor had shown them favor, whereas Khan treated the Legion Master and his brothers as outsiders, and refused to give them the authority and respect that the Terrans in the other legions enjoyed. Svensellen despised the cultural chimera that his legion had become, the dull-witted serfs and tribal barbarians he was forced to call brothers, and not a day went by without him cursing the hand fate had dealt him. For his part, Tikan found himself unable to understand why the Astartes desired respect so much, and eventually began to become annoyed with the repeated requests from his legion master to wage a more conventional war. Were it not for the favor Horus showed Svensellen, as well as his unparalleled experience and exceptional tactical acumen, he may well have been replaced, but as it stood, no Chemosian could seem to best him.

Based on the Khan's tactical preferences, his legion may well have remained split for many years to come. They had grown in size to match the rest of the legions, but had never mustered in their full strength. However, this was to change with the return of a foe thought vanquished over twenty years earlier: the dreaded Rangda. Around twenty years after the Battle of Advex-Mors, an invasion force unlike any ever seen descended upon the unprepared worlds of Men. A numberless horde of techno-organic abominations began to throw the Imperium back from the northern and eastern fringes, a threat far too terrible for baseline mortals to face. As such, the Legiones Astartes were the only force capable of halting them until reinforcements could be gathered. The Star Hunters had long been renowned for their speed, and had actually been the first to discover the true threat posed by these foul xenos. When word came of a force of Raven Guard defending the Xana System against one of their colonizer fleets, the sons of Tikan were quick to respond. For months the two legions fought side by side on that lonely world on the far western fringes, a single light amidst the darkness of the Second Rangdan Xenocide. Over ten thousand legionaries of the Fifth Legion died to defend that world alongside countless Mechanicum thralls, a desperate last stand to delay the xenotic advance. Their heroism was finally rewarded by the arrival of three more legions as well as the Emperor of Mankind himself. The forces of Man clawed out a victory, the first of the war, and in the aftermath, the Star Hunters along with eight other legions were tasked with prosecuting the war against the foul xenos.

Over the following three decades, the Star Hunters acted as a rapid-reaction force, desperately racing to and fro across the northern fringes of the Imperium in a losing battle to hold back the xenos incursions. Dozens of systems were lost forever, countless trillions subsumed into the viral embrace of the star-spawned abominations as they attempted to metastasize across the thin line stopping them from invading the rest of the Imperium. In the face of such madness, lesser men might have been broken, or driven mad by loss, but Jaga Tikan was no ordinary man. He lived for the thrill of battle, testing his blade against osseivore combat-forms that threatened to overcome even his legendary skill with the blade. He alone laughed in the midst of such death and destruction, never forgetting the lessons of the Sulpha in his thrill to be alive and challenged as never before. However, his joy in battle soon became something of a strained facade, for his sons were dying at unsustainable rates against such a horrifying foe. When the Second Rangdan Xenocide came to an end many years later, the Vth Legion was a shell of its former self, barely forty thousand Astartes strong. The Khan was left deeply unsatisfied, for as a primarch he was privy to the knowledge the Rangda had only retreated, aware that for all their effort the Imperium had only achieved a stalemate or pyrrhic victory at best. No more could they freely roam the stars, for their low numbers meant any significant loss could result in them becoming combat ineffective, and so until they rebuilt their numbers, the Fifth would have to remain together in a group.

For the first time, Jaga Tikan was forced to confront the reality of his situation. The initial sense of dishonor which had driven him to join the Imperium was now a distant memory, the sting of shame no longer so sharp. For decades, he and his men had suffered and died for an uncaring Imperium, ignored on the fringes while others basked in the limelight. It was true he had never sought to be the center of attention, but now with low numbers and no way to quickly replace them, the value of this arrangement seemed to be rather one-sided to Tikan. Out there alone in the darkness, Tikan considered for the first time that perhaps an alternative was needed, though what that might be was eluding him for the moment. From the little interaction he had had with his father, it seemed pretty unlikely that the Emperor would simply allow them to stop crusading, and even at full strength the Star Hunters would not have been able to resist the might of the other legions. Tikan spent many nights over the next several years pondering this unhappy arrangement, but his luck would change with the discovery of an abhuman empire just south of the galactic core. Initial negotiations proved fruitless, and so the Star Hunters went to war, purging the foe without mercy. The enemy, recorded in the combat logs of the Fifth Legion as the Squats, were a tenacious foe, utilizing esoteric weaponry similar to but more advanced than their Imperial counterparts. Their cities were uniformly underground, a particular challenge for the Star Hunters accustomed to the freedom of the void or surface battles, and oftentimes the foe would destroy their own caverns rather than allow the Astartes to take them.

The Star Hunters were thus forced to adapt, their affinity for jetbikes and maneuver warfare all but useless in the tight confines of the subterranean cities, though never once did they contemplate calling for aid. The fierce independence of Jaga Tikan, which had seen an entire world starve before accepting a task not to his liking, had reared its head once more. Rather than calling one of his brothers with a legion more suited for such warfare, such as the Luna Wolves, Tikan continued to waste both men and time, heedless of delays or danger. What he sought to prove has been lost to history, for none of his personal logs survived the events of the Leonine Heresy, and few have ever been able to speculate as to his true intentions, including not even his sons. The campaign began to drag on, reaching deeper and deeper into the outskirts of the galactic core, a little-explored region of space extremely hazardous to navigate. However, the squats could not hide their technology forever, and an ambush led by the Khan himself soon saw him and his elite terminator bodyguards in the heart of one of their cities.

All around him, his sons were dying, their ceramite and adamantium armor no defense against the crushing weight of graviton guns fired from hundreds of angry abhumans. They had swarmed out of every tunnel like ants whose hill had been kicked, an understandable reaction considering a lance strike had pierced a hole into the heart of their underground city. The jetbike squadrons had flown in from orbit, moving at speeds any other legion would have considered insane, finally able to maneuver for the first time in the campaign. However, they were no more than a distraction, one designed to divert the enemy's attention while Tikan himself moved in for the prize, whatever it was that the abhumans fought so hard to protect at the heart of their cities, and now that he stood here in the midst of their sanctum, it was clear why.

On all sides, racks of strange machinery filled the walls of the vast chamber, cables and wires trailing to connect to a horrific device that was without a doubt an Abominable Intelligence. Almost spherical, it towered high above Tikan, carved metal faces staring blankly at the primarch and the pile of corpses surrounding him, the unarmed technicians who had fought without regard to their own safety in a last-ditch attempt to defend this abomination. Tikan studied it from a distance, his keen senses noting the gradual reduction in noise from the halls surrounding him, as well as the distinctive sound of Astartes moving in behind him. Without turning around, he spoke, uncaring of which of his sons were joining him.

"Have the techmarines salvage what little information they can before the squats wipe their databanks. After that, destroy this abomination."

The Hunters Ensnared: The Battle of Chondax

Though fierce opponents, the abhumans proved unable to withstand the might of one of the Emperor's legions, and they were soon declared extinct. This was merely a preemptive and speculatory ruling on Tikan's part, for he had no wish to continue to risk his forces by traveling any deeper into the uncharted galactic core, long renowned as a place unfit for any life. The Star Hunters continued to study the strange technologies they had captured in the hopes of replicating and improving upon it for their own use, as it was intriguingly-close to their own. However, they met with little success, and it soon became no more than a side project compared to their primary task of prosecuting the Great Crusade, though one they never gave up. The campaign against the Squats had reduced their numbers, once on the rebound, to dangerously close to non-viability. However, the Vth Legion refused to slow down, and soon began a new campaign, this time against an infestation of orks northwest of the galactic core. The sons of Tikan reveled in their skill over the barbaric greenskins, who swarmed to meet them like hornets whose nest was disturbed. The Fifth fought with more speed than ever before, unleashing a truly excessive amount of violence on the clumsy greenskins, who bellowed in frustration as they struggled to keep up with them.

For the next few years, the sons of Tikan battled increasingly-large orks, many of whom sought to challenge the primarch in battle, for he was the biggest and clearly the best warrior present. However, if they thought to break the Star Hunters by shattering the center, they were dead wrong, for the Fifth Legion had no conventional center. Wherever Tikan was was the center of any battle, and he was never in the same place for long, striking with just enough force and restraint to achieve his goal before withdrawing once more, no extra effort expended whatsoever because that would only waste time. It is said that being slow, wasting his potential, was the one thing Tikan feared, and so when he came to the conclusion that his forces were insufficient to complete the campaign within a reasonable timeframe, he sent out a call for aid to the one brother he was close to. Thus it was, to the poorly-concealed delight of Legion Master Svensellen, that Horus Lupercal responded to Tikan's call to arms, not only by bringing his entire legion, but echoing the summons, calling in other forces such as the Iron Warriors. Tikan and Lupercal fought side by side for years, striking fear into the hearts of the foe as they battled to top each other's kill counts, leaving mountains of slain greenskins in their wake with every battle. So too did Svensellen fight beside Abaddon, the two warriors as close as brothers once more.

As the months turned into years, more forces from both sides began to pour in. Intelligence soon uncovered the name of the ork's leader, a specimen of unusual intelligence compared to the rest of his kind named Overlord Urrlak Urg. Most greenskin infestations were planet or system-bound, unable to travel the vast distances between the stars under their own power, but not so with Overlord Urg. This was a painful lesson for the Imperial Army forces, whose troop transports were shot down in the dozens by massive space-faring vessels known as kroozers, misshapen craft formed from the wreckage of human and xenos ships alike. The firepower of these hulks was truly astounding in its volume, if not its accuracy, and the pilots of the Star Hunters were forced to rely on all of their reflexes and training just to avoid the absurd amounts of firepower hurled their way during every engagement. However, no greenskins could hold back the might of the Legiones Astartes, and soon the Overlord's homeworld was located, a world by the name of Ullanor. However, before Tikan or even Lupercal could make a move against it, their plans were thrown into disarray by a new arrival, the Emperor of Mankind himself. In his fleet was a vast array of new reinforcements, including millions of fresh Imperial Army reserves and over one hundred Titans. The Master of Mankind wasted no time in assuming command over the entire operation, inviting Horus to take part in his councils in a place of honor as he planned out the assault of the Sixteenth Legion, while others such as Tikan and Perturabo were left to find their own seats if they wished to join their counsel.

The Lord of Chemos was metaphorically left out in the cold, despite the fact it was he who had begun this entire campaign, and he spent the rest of it in his quarters, forbidding his sons to continue to take part in the fighting. However, this gesture was almost unnoticed, for few history books even record the presence of the Fifth Legion in what was later termed the Ullanor Crusade. Most texts record the Ullanor Campaign as having been initiated by Lupercal, as the small numbers of the Star Hunters seem inconsequential compared to the force the Emperor and Lupercal had brought to bear. Thus when Lupercal slew the Overlord by his own hand, Tikan was nowhere to be seen, vanished along with the bonds which had formed between the Fifth and Sixteenth Legions. However, the ultimate slight was yet to come. After the battle had been won, news of the upcoming Triumph of Ullanor soon rang out, and as his ships were literally in the same system, the Fifth Legion was, by accident more than design, one of the first to receive these missives. Sensing he had perhaps misjudged his family, Tikan gave Svensellen and the rest of his sons permission to take part, certain that their sacrifices, both here and during the rest of the Great Crusade, would finally be recognized.

However, when the Triumph began several months later, it seemed they had given their allies too much credit in assuming they'd share credit where credit was due. At the head of the Grand Parade in the position of honor marched the Sixteenth Legion, followed by forces from many other legions, a great deal of whom had not even been present in the system at the time of the Overlord's death. The Fifth Legion, despite their sacrifices, was assigned to the back of the column alongside less honorable legions such as the World Eaters and Imperial Fists, clearly an afterthought. When asked about it, Imperial planners offered the pitiful excuse that they had assumed the Fifth would have already moved on and did not realize they would stay for the Triumph, but Tikan was unconvinced. It was now abundantly clear to him his Father's empire had no regard for them or the sacrifices they had made, and the summit of this dishonor was made clear with the announcement of Horus Lupercal as Warmaster. Tikan was aghast at the Emperor's decision to pawn off his responsibilities to Lupercal, to appoint one of the primarchs above the rest of his brothers without so much as a warning. In the subsequent feast held for the nine primarchs gathered, Tikan sat as far away from the new Warmaster as possible, on the far end of the table alongside other malcontents such as Mortarion and Angron.

After the conclusion of the feast, Tikan quickly departed without any warning, taking his legion south back to Chemos in order to accelerate its rebuilding. However, when the fleet arrived, they discovered they were not alone. Orbiting above the gray world were ships whose hulls were as black as midnight, gunports open and aimed at the new arrivals with stunning impertinence. Only one brother would be this bold, and after a long laugh, Tikan opened communications with the lead ship, a vessel he would recognize anywhere. From his command throne aboard the Invincible Reason, Lion El'Jonson smiled back at his brother, and soon the two primarchs were seated within the fortress of Callax down on the surface of Chemos. Though they had never been friends, for neither of their personalities were much inclined to displays of affection, Tikan had long had positive regards for the Lord of the First. Though Lion had been found over twenty years after him, Tikan had long sensed this brother to be a kindred spirit, a man of honor who lived by his own code, someone who was a hunter on the same level as himself. When the Star Hunters had bled defending the world of Xana, the Dark Angels were part of the relief force. The dry humor of the straight-laced Lion never failed to elicit heartfelt laughter from Tikan, and this occasion was no different, but beneath the surface, Tikan could tell something was bothering his brother, and he said as much.

To Tikan's surprise, the Lion voiced a similar concern, and so the two poured out their woes to each other. The Lord of Caliban was in perfect agreement with the Wanderer of Chemos on nearly every topic, and seemed to know just what to say to reassure his brother. His visit yielded dividends in other ways as well, as before he left, the Lion tasked members of his Firewing to aid the Fifth in deciphering the secrets of the squat technology they had seized years before. With their help, a veritable treasure trove of information was pried from it, and the techmarines of both legions were able to develop a device known as the Crucible.

Crucible

Scholars point to the invention of this device as the beginning of the downfall of the Fifth Legion. From the archives of the Great Crusade, Inquisitorial scholars have been able to deduce that the abhuman armies of the Squats, vanquished long ago, were comprised of hosts of cloned warriors. Contrary to the common conception of clones, these armies were not identical, for they were taken not from one source but many beings, each source of DNA leading to what was termed a cloneskein. Such a heretical practice had long been shunned by the Imperium, including the Legiones Astartes, who had always refused to induct clones regardless of any possible advantage. However, not all shared this ancient prejudice, and desperate to stop the extinction of his legion and regain their former efficacy, Jaga Tikan did not question how the Lion knew how to decipher the technology of the Squats. Taking the genetic patterns of his most powerful warriors, Jaga Tikan thus took his first steps upon the road to damnation, heedless of the consequences in his desire to put away the failures of the past.

Uncaring of the moral implications of such an act, Tikan and the Lion reaffirmed their friendship that day with the implementation of the Crucible. The primarch of the Fifth was well aware not all of his sons could be trusted to understand the utilitarian nature of the decision he had made, that their prejudice would bring unwanted attention down upon his activities. Thus when the Lion revealed the Warmaster was planning on creating a force known as the Legion Auxilia, Tikan was quick to assign those sons who could be trusted not to reveal their activities to accompany the Lion back to the Warmaster. As a point of spite, Svensellen was not amongst their ranks, and it gratified Tikan to no end to finally have a reason to banish his most irritating son for questioning his judgment in front of others. Thus Svensellen and his closest allies, those Terran veterans likely to object to the concept of cloning, were sent into exile, tasked with exploring the Large Magellanic Cloud outside the galaxy itself. All knew the Legion Master and his brethren would likely never return, but they accepted their task nonetheless, and it was the last anyone ever saw of them. Whether or not they made it to their destination has never been determined, even ten thousand years later, for all transmissions launched into the intergalactic void have only been met with silence…

With this issue dealt with, Tikan began to grow his legion like never before, utilizing the Crucibles to churn out thousands of new Astartes in record time. It seemed as though for the first time in many years that the legion was back on the right track, and would soon be back to full strength once more. Equipment was no issue either, for the new recruits were able to use the spare equipment that had languished in the armories for decades, taken from those who had fallen in years past during the Rangdan Xenocides. However, it was not long before problems began to set in. It soon became apparent that the energy requirements for such devices were substantial indeed, and the factories of Chemos were far from adequately-equipped to handle the strain. Ever desiring to achieve peak utility, the Star Hunters experimented with many alternative fuel sources, from ancient fusion reactors which broke down with irritating regularity, to more esoteric methods, such as the Pink Alchemy of Sensensica, which was abandoned due to Chemos's inability to meet the population requirements. In addition, genetic abnormalities began to set in after a couple of generations, the Crucibles themselves often breaking down as their machine-spirits rebelled against the unholy purposes for which they were being used. Thus the Star Hunters continued to induct regular recruits in order to keep a fresh genetic stockpile, as well as throw off any potential suspicion should the need arise.

While the Star Hunters rebuilt themselves, events in the rest of the galaxy proceeded apace. Tikan remained in touch with the Lion, who informed him the Warmaster desired the Fifth Legion to join the Ninth and Fourteenth in cleansing the rest of the greenskins from the regions of space around Ullanor. Leaving behind some trusted sons to keep the wandering eyes of outsiders from straying too close to Chemos, Tikan and the rest of the Fifth Legion journeyed back north to begin their assault upon the world of Chondax, to hunt down one of the fallen Overlord's most powerful lieutenants, Warboss Morgrim Ironchoppa. Right from the beginning, it became abundantly obvious that allowing the greenskins to flee had been a mistake, for despite the colossal slaughter inflicted upon them at Ullanor, the orks were incredibly numerous. In the space of less than a year, their population had rebounded to be uncountably large once more, and had it not been for the Crucibles, the numbers of the Fifth would have no doubt been inadequate to face such a horde. Under the expert tutelage of the veterans, the cloned legionaries unleashed defeat after defeat upon the greenskins, but the orks refused to yield, always fighting to the bitter end and growing stronger with each confrontation. It appeared they had learned from Ullanor, for many now sported scraps of white and black armor, clear imitations of the Luna Wolves. The Star Hunters were amused to see many of their ramshackle vehicles sporting crude red stripes, an obvious homage to the jetbikes squadrons of the Fifth Legion which had inflicted such frightful losses upon them. The forces of both sides fought high-speed battles above the volcanic surface of Phemos IV, packs of jetbikes and assault marines clashing with their orkish counterparts as they dipped in and out of the black clouds which wreathed the surface of the world.

It was during this campaign that the Star Hunters learned of the events of the Council of Nikaea. Based on how he had been treated at Ullanor, the Khan had no desire to go where he wasn't wanted even if he had cared about the result. He had long been in favor of psykers as one tool among many for speeding up compliances, and the Master of Mankind's decree to disband the Librarius was seen as inexplicably foolish, and as such would have no place amongst the Fifth. Thus the Edict of Nikaea was never properly enforced among the Fifth Legion, Tikan openly announcing to his captains that they had nothing to fear from those who could utilize the Warp. When a delegation of Word Bearers arrived to enforce the Decree, Tikan had them placed with a company which had few psykers and few cloned warriors, for he knew all too well the threat represented by their dogmatic outlook. Tikan's utilitarian views meant the concept of disposing of such unwanted outsiders was far from unthinkable, and soon the Word Bearers were no more, a development which seemed to please the Lion when he arrived several years later.

Aside from this delegation of Word Bearers, no outside parties bothered to visit the Fifth Legion. They remained alone in their region of space, shrouded from the rest of the galaxy by ever-worsening warp storms. Thus when the Lion did arrive, it was unexpected, an expedition secret from all others, for the message he brought could not be trusted to astropaths. It was at that time that the Lord of Caliban revealed to his brother the first steps in his plan to obtain independence. Not for the first time, Tikan was reminded of the negative light in which his legion would be viewed by outsiders should they ever learn of the Crucibles, and his resentment at being ignored was expertly played upon by the Lion's conciliatory words. Thus when the Lord of Caliban all but begged Tikan to join him, there was little hesitation on his part, and he quickly swore to come to the Lion's aid whenever he called for it. In exchange, Jaga Tikan extracted a promise of unlimited freedom for his legion in the days after the war, for he knew full well the Emperor would not simply let power go without a fight.

However, that freedom would have to wait, for Tikan and his men would have many more battles before that day would come. By this point, the Chondax Campaign had dragged on for years, a testament to orkish resilience, but this only gave Tikan the time he needed to weed out those whose loyalty was in doubt, as well as continue perfecting the Crucibles. By the time the forces of the Star Hunters closed in on the trinary star system of Chondax Prime, the legion had grown vastly in size and experience, and was now fully renegade. However, their martial pride meant they would finish this task, and so the forces of the Fifth Legion closed in upon Chondax itself, ready to find and put an end to Warboss Ironchoppa. After a few hours of furious dogfights, the last of the orkish fleet was sent fleeing, trapping their remaining forces on the surface with no way to escape as the first of the Star Hunters descended upon the planet from above. The world of Chondax Prime was a dead world, its cold salt plains absorbing all moisture without a trace, and initial engagements showed it to be utterly inimical to human life. Battlefields seemed to disappear after only a short time, and orkish counterattacks soon eliminated any firebases that the legion attempted to establish.

Thus the Fifth settled in for a more protracted campaign, and took to utilizing vast airships, mobile fortresses floating above the empty plains from which the rapid-reaction jetbike squadrons could embark upon punitive strikes. Many legionaries began to daub their armor with white paint to better blend in at a distance, both as camouflage and as something to do during such a tedious campaign. After months of inconclusive fighting, a malaise began to settle upon Jaga Tikan, an empty, rootless sort of feeling produced by gazing upon the featureless white plains. This feeling seemed to vanish only in the heat of battle, but even then not fully, for the joy of combat began to lessen in intensity the longer Tikan spent upon Chondax. It was as though the thrills of the past were no longer enough, and he found himself commanding more and more risky assaults just to feel alive again. A dangerous monotony settled upon the Fifth Legion, tempers fraying despite the victories they continued to wrack up, and it was with some relief that scouts announced the last of the xenos had cornered into the one geographic feature of Chondax different from the empty crystalline deserts: the Grinder. A tangled, snarled mess of canyons visible from space, the Grinder was an ideal location for a last stand, and the orks took full advantage of its natural defenses, the narrow confines ill-suited for the mobile warfare which the Star Hunters specialized in.

The battle to take the Grinder was costly indeed. It is believed the Fifth Legion took more casualties clearing its canyons than the rest of the world combined, but in the end, the xenos could not resist the might of an Astartes Legion. New psychic techniques bolstered the sons of Tikan, the librarians imbuing their brothers with strength far in excess of their already-impressive physical abilities, and advisors from the First Legion taught them many other techniques and aided them in deepening their knowledge of the Warp. The last Terrans were finally dealt with, meeting a violent end in the Grinder's twisting canyons, and even the forces of the Legion Auxilia had been fully replaced with Astartes more loyal to Tikan than the Emperor. The Fifth was now well over a hundred thousand strong, the entire structure riddled with warrior lodges whose members competed to out-do each other in might and skill. The arrogance of the veteran legionaries was outdone only by that of the primarch's, who had become ever more mercurial in the past few years, quick to change from rage to joy and back again. Tikan brooked no checks upon his authority, and had come to realize the Emperor's demands had been chains holding him back, a limit to his freedom which he would no longer permit. During the battle to take the Grinder, he had reveled in clearing entire complexes by himself, his crazed laughter terrifying the superstitious orks that tried to face him in the cramped corridors. Thus when the Lion called for his aid, he was quick to respond, eager to begin the process of obtaining his absolute freedom, despite the seemingly-menial task to which he was set.

Heresy: The Storm Unleashed

It had been nearly ten years since the Star Hunters had been tasked with routing the orks of Chondax, and none were more eager than Tikan to move onto a new assignment. After receiving the Lion's commands, the large fleet of the Vth Legion moved into deep space, far away from prying eyes as they prepared for a new hunt: other Astartes. The Lord of Caliban informed his brother that the Warmaster had grown impatient with the lack of news caused by the worsening Warp Storms which choked the galaxy, and had tasked the Fourteenth Legion with finding the Star Hunters. The concept of finally being recognized but in such a negative light was bitterly amusing to the legion, and they looked forward to teaching a sharp lesson to their morbid cousins. Tikan was intrigued by the Lion's missive asking him to convert the dour Death Guard to their side, to play upon Mortarion's suspicions of the Emperor and turn yet another legion to their side. Of course, should such a task prove impossible, the Fifth were free to eliminate them in whatever manner they chose, to ensure no threats remained to counter the future advance upon Terra. Thus the Star Hunters readied themselves as Tikan journeyed back to Chondax itself to meet with his brother, accompanied by his bodyguard, the Keshig.

Keshig

The unifying trait of the Emperor's sons is their pride. They are superhuman in every way, including their emotions, and even the closest of relationships between these brothers was always limited by their temperaments. However, some primarchs were better at putting aside their arrogance than others and recognizing their commonalities, forming bonds as their legions fought alongside one another. One such partnership was that of Jaga Tikan of Chemos and Fulgrim of Chogoris, who quickly bonded over a shared lack of enthusiasm when it came to their father. Though Fulgrim was found many decades after Tikan, the two proved a natural complement, and along with Ferrus Manus, the three primarchs shared similar aloof temperaments, a kinship which transcended the need for displays of brotherly affection. Tikan and Fulgrim knew where they stood with each other, and did not hesitate to aid one another. Thus when the Primarch of the Third asked his brother to aid him in growing his legion, Tikan allowed his brother to take a group of aspirants from Chemos in the hopes that fresh genetics would be of aid in overcoming the Blight which persisted in plaguing his forces.

However, such generosity came with a price, and in exchange for the sons of his world, Jaga Tikan claimed new knowledge, the secrets of Chogoris which no other outsiders were permitted to know. Thus the fighting techniques of another world were added to Tikan's ever-growing knowledge, and he utilized it well, combining the techniques of the Plains with the Blade-Dancers of the Sulpha to create a new breed of warrior: the Keshig. These soldiers would accompany Tikan on every campaign, acting as bodyguards and companions, and were divided into multiple groups, including the terminator-armored Black and jetbike-mounted Golden Keshig. The various nomad philosophies of Chogoris and Chemos were natural fits, and the cultural appearances of both worlds were evident upon their armor, including distinctive lion-helms, rectangular banded shoulder armor, and wicked-sharp power glaives.

Upon the surface of Chondax, the meeting with Mortarion went about as well as could be expected. His insane paranoia for all things Warp-related quickly soured into open hostility, and Tikan experienced a new and sublime level of joy as he crossed blades with a brother for the first time. He had heard secondhand that other primarchs had fought before, most often friendly duels, though there was a persistent rumor that some had battled in earnest. However, Tikan himself never had the opportunity to observe such a contest, as he had always been on the fringes, as had the Death Lord. Tikan knew full well why the Lion had chosen him to try and sway this brother, but to be honest, the prospect of slaying Mortarion was far more appealing. Just the mere concept was enough to send thrilling jolts through Tikan, a feeling so elevated that his concentration slipped, an advantage the Death Lord was quick to take advantage of. Though he knew full well the Lion would not be happy, Jaga Tikan knew he had to experience it once more, that to slay Mortarion outright would be a waste. Thus with a mocking bow, he disengaged and returned to his ship, promising his humorless brother that they would meet again.

While the two brothers had fought upon Chondax itself, the rest of the legion had begun their assault on the Death Guard fleet, moving at incredible speed and inflicting mass casualties as they toyed with their prey. The Star Hunters too wished to prolong the cruelty and domination, and despite their bloodlust, they quickly withdrew in accordance with their primarch's orders. Over the next few months, the Star Hunters preyed upon their cousin legion, inflicting dozens of cuts as they slowly whittled away at the legendary endurance of the Death Guard, boarding their ships time and time again. The sorcerous techniques of the Librarius enabled the Fifth to effortlessly track their foes no matter where they fled, and the fate of the captured was as messy and drawn-out as the campaign itself. Tikan spent a great deal of time amusing himself, forcing prisoners to duel him until they either collapsed of exhaustion or managed to draw blood, making sport of the Death Guard's famous resilience. Other parts of the fleet were similarly engaged, for the Lion had asked them to hunt down the remnants of the Space Wolves. Tikan had never liked his barbaric brother due to his arrogant assumption that he was the mightiest hunter, and was greatly amused when he learned of the trap Magnus the Red had laid for the Sixth Legion. The Star Hunters pursued the Space Wolves with rapacious fury amidst the rust-red shoals of the Alaxxes Nebula, toying with them just as the rest of the fleet toyed with the Death Guard. However, such carelessness proved their undoing, for by chance or fate the Death Guard and Space Wolves somehow managed to unite their forces. Now outnumbered, the Star Hunters were quick to jump out of the system, and their attacks upon the loyalist forces gradually lessened in intensity before dropping off altogether.

However, despite no longer pursuing the Death Guard and Space Wolves, the Star Hunters were highly active throughout the galaxy. While Tikan busied himself hunting isolated Imperial forces, other companies of the Fifth were busy claiming glory for their legion upon the world of Davin. The Leonine Heresy had become fully unleashed with the devastating betrayal of the Dark Angels and Blood Angels, who had revealed their true loyalties and slaughtered many Sons of Horus, though the Warmaster himself had managed to escape. The Lion called all the legions loyal to his cause to join him in a Dark Triumph on Davin itself, and the Star Hunters were well-represented, thousands of jetbikes screaming through the skies above their cousins who seemed to move in slow motion as they marched below. Over the following years, hundreds of systems felt the wrath of the Fifth Legion, whose fleets moved from world to world with dizzying speed. A large portion of the fleet accompanied the First Legion to the Molech System, aiding them in battling Imperial forces upon a world the Lion claimed the Fifth had been to before, though not even the legion veterans seemed to have any memory of it. The forces of four legions clashed in the crowded skies of Molech while the Archtraitor did something on the world below, and when he returned, the Star Hunters could tell the Lord of Caliban had become far more than he was before.

After almost two years of hunting and terrorizing helpless populations, Tikan was called to the Lion's side once more. The Archtraitor had changed since the last time Tikan had seen him, radiating an almost palpable aura of strength. The prospect of facing him in combat seemed almost too good to pass up, but Tikan held himself in check as his brother explained the dilemmas facing their rebellion. Far to the east, Roboute Guilliman had wreathed his domains in an impenetrable shroud known as the Ruinstorm, ensnaring two loyalist legions. Parts of his vast legion were now aiding in the advance on Terra, but the Lion believed most of the Thirteenth's forces were being squandered, pursuing their own ends rather than contributing to the cause. Tikan and his sons were one of the few forces he could trust, the Archtraitor explained, to go there and ensure the Thirteenth Legion completed their task of destroying the Word Bearers and Night Lords lest they interfere with future plans. Nodding his assent, Tikan prepared to leave, but before he could exit, the Lion asked him to leave behind at least a quarter of his sons, for their contribution to the war effort was too great to allow all to depart.

Gathering his forces, the Star Hunters traversed the width of the galaxy, journeying far from Terra to reach Ultramar, the Jewel of the East. The storms which the Lion had spoken of did not bother them, seeming more inviting than anything. According to the legion's Librarius, whose members had increasingly begun to refer to themselves as sorcerers, the gaze of the Four was upon the Fifth Legion, none more so than the Prince of Pleasures. Tikan dismissed such talk of gods, for he would never submit to the chains of a deity regardless of its promises, a defiance which both pleased and infuriated the spirits which had begun to speak to him in his dreams. A similar level of Warp-based influence had begun to creep in across the legion, seemingly accelerating now that they were within the confines of Ultramar. Many legionaries had begun to ride their jetbikes without a helmet, incising small cuts into their faces to feel the sting of the wind and hear the roar of the engines with their own senses. During the journey, many of the mortals crewing the ships had begun to go missing, their mutilated corpses showing up days later drained of all fluid and marked by countless wounds and tattoos which hurt the eye to behold. The warrior lodges introduced by the Lion back even before Chondax had grown to become something of an obsession, and not a day went by without some sort of honor duel between rival groups. However, the pleasures of the present were temporarily put aside, for Tikan demanded the best from his sons, and the sons of Chemos were not yet too far gone to disobey their father. The Star Hunters quickly discovered the location of Marius Gage, Legion Master of the Thirteenth, who was able to point them toward Guilliman's location on a garden world in the northeast of Ultramar.

The stench was revolting, Tikan thought to himself as he walked through the outer precincts of the shanty-town which now filled the once-pristine garden. Once-beautiful flowers were now glossy plastek caricatures, too bright and too shiny to be real, for clearly anything not perfect had no place here. However, its inhabitants had a strange conception of perfection, for rather than any grand palace, a crumbling shack held the pride of place in the center of this realm of debauchery. Discordant music echoed all around, off-tune and offensive to any sane ear, while on a stained couch lazed Tikan's glassy-eyed brother.

Roboute Guilliman had changed since the last time Jaga had seen him. In place of his resplendent armor, he wore nothing but a robe that was far too short for him, its intricate patterns discolored by stains. Simpering daemons flickered in and out of reality in the corners of Jaga's vision, though none dared approach him. Standing above his catatonic brother, the briefest curiosity as to what brought him to this state filled the Lord of Chemos before being driven away by utter disgust. Never would he allow himself to be ensnared so, he thought to himself, and in that moment, Tikan felt the outrage of the so-called gods watching over this place. Walking back to the doorway, Jaga pulled out a frag grenade, rolled it toward the source of the music, and stepped behind the wall to avoid the blast. The outraged screams of his brother were music to his ears.

"WHO DISRUPTS MY CORONATION?" came an indignant shriek, causing Jaga to snort in disbelief. He stepped back into the room.

"Coronation? You've always been slow, but this is just bad comedy." Tikan retorted, savoring the look of affront upon Guilliman's face.

Manhandling his failure of a brother, Tikan forced Guilliman to account for his sloth, setting forth the Lion's demands and enjoying the feeling of enforcing his will upon his prideful brother. Unable to disobey as he was unwilling to further incur his brothers' wrath, Guilliman yielded, calling his armies to muster at the world of Armatura. Once they had gathered, the Battle-King of Ultramar watched sullenly as Tikan ordered his sons around, reveling in the feeling of dominating one who had always considered himself to be superior. To one that had been ignored and forgotten for so long, the feeling of power in subjugating his brother, of absolute authority, now seemed even better than the freedom of the hunt. Over the following months, the two legions spread themselves across the entirety of Ultramar, seeking out the loyalists wherever they were hiding and making sport of their gruesome deaths. The Star Hunters' predatory savagery was almost matched by that of the scions of Guilliman, who seemed particularly interested to learn that the many Star Hunters were the products of cloning, and the two legions formed new bonds of brotherhood. It seemed most of the Ultramarines were not quite so far gone as their father, and though prideful, many proved to be excellent fighters who reveled in the opportunities of slaughter provided to them by the Star Hunters.

However, while the loyalists continued to fight them at every turn, it was clear they were losing, and so the thrill of the hunt began to fade. Tikan found himself desiring a challenge, some kind of diversion to entertain him, and so when Guilliman claimed to have discovered an ancient xenos weapon, Tikan agreed to follow him, though his expectations were low. The two primarchs arrived on the world of Sotha, near the eastern edges of Ultramar on the very fringe of human-settled space, and traveled deep below the surface, through ancient ruins older than humanity itself, to stand above a bottomless chasm. There, at the height of his power and authority, Jaga Tikan was treacherously assaulted by one whom he called brother, one whom he had thought himself the master of. Standing on the lip of the chasm, Guilliman plunged a dagger into his back, and as the two fell into the pit, grappling at each other, it was confusion more than anger which filled his thoughts. In all his years, all the imaginary combats he had waged against his brothers, never had he considered the possibility of dying at the hands of Roboute Guilliman. As he wrapped his hands around his brother's throat, he noticed his hands were covered in blood, though not his own, for Roboute had opened his own throat with the same blade whose poison was beginning to work its way through Tikan's veins. Echoing laughter at his humiliation and confusion roared in Tikan's ears as his life began to flash before his eyes, and as unconsciousness threatened to claim him, darker than any pit, all he could think was how disappointed he was to not go out with a blade in his hands. Thus died Jaga Tikan of Chemos, the forgotten Fifth Son, just one more victim of treachery in the fratricidal civil war which had engulfed the galaxy.

Siege of Terra: Dissipation

Was this what fear felt like? This all-consuming panic and horror, the inability to move or think or do anything except accept your fate, Saul Tarvitz wondered to himself as he knelt before the command throne aboard the Invincible Reason, flagship of the First Legion. Though he dared not look up, Tarvitz knew exactly what sat before him, the uncontested master of the Dark Angels, the demigod who had orchestrated a galaxy-spanning civil war to rip apart the greatest empire in history. Out of the corner of his eye, the Star Hunter could see the tip of the Lionsword, the great two-handed blade which flickered with barely-contained energies.

"Captain Tarvitz." The voice of Lion El'Jonson boomed forth, deeper and more authoritative than any Saul had heard before. "Or should I say, Legion Master Tarvitz. I will be blunt: your father is dead. The entirety of the forces he brought with him, all the tens of thousands of Astartes, the best of your brothers, are dead, or will be shortly." Amidst the hammer-blows of such terrible revelation, Saul could barely remain standing. The presence of a primarch, let alone one as powerful as El'Jonson, was almost too much, and the Astartes seized upon an aspect of the voice in order to distract himself. Was that frustration he detected? "As you are the senior surviving commander, I decree you are to lead the rest of your brothers. Will you honor your legion's oaths to me, Saul Tarvitz of Chemos? Or will I find another who will?" Saul managed to raise his gaze to look the Lion squarely in his gray-green eyes. He managed a shaky nod.

"This I swear. I will rebuild the Star Hunters, and we will be at your side when we reach Terra, and topple the False Emperor from his throne of lies." The Lion seemed satisfied at this, flicking a finger to indicate his dismissal. As Saul turned around to leave the chamber, he observed the trophies which filled it. All the primarchs were notorious collectors, but Saul couldn't help but be curious about these items contained in this most inner of sanctums. It appeared the Lord of Caliban was no exception, but the relics which filled this chamber appeared to be from other primarchs rather than conquered worlds. Was that Tikan's favorite sword, Saul wondered. How had he obtained that?

The destruction of the Fifth Legion was swift and merciless. The death of Jaghatai Khan upon the world of Sotha came as a total surprise to his sons, who only later learned it from the taunts of the Ultramarines. Across Ultramar, the Thirteenth Legion turned their guns against their erstwhile allies without any warning, killing thousands in a pointless betrayal that served only to stroke their egos. What few survivors escaped this initial ambush fled aimlessly across the Jewel of the East, unable to escape the confines of the Ruinstorm just as surely as the rest of the loyalist legions, from whom they could expect no mercy. News of this overwhelming victory soon spread amongst the traitor ranks, shocking many who had never considered Guilliman, whose skill with a quill had always outmatched his talent with the blade, to be capable of besting one of his brothers. Nowhere was this trauma more evident than in the remnants of the Fifth Legion, those sons of Chemos who had not accompanied the primarch to Ultramar, who withdrew from active duty to assess their losses and rebuilt the legion. The Vth rallied to Chemos under the command of the now-Legion Master Tarvitz, who wished to recalibrate the Crucibles in an attempt to regrow the legion. The traitor drive against Bastion Omega slowed accordingly, bereft of one of its most powerful and dedicated forces, but neither curses nor pleas stirred the Star Hunters to return.

Now with time to think, the Star Hunters pondered their place in the galaxy. They had followed Tikan without thinking, joining him in betraying their oaths to the Imperium without a second thought. The spirit of excess and competition had now abated, leaving many feeling as though they had been intoxicated and were now going through withdrawals, able to think clearly for the first time in years. Thus one question more than any other began to fill their thoughts: without the primarch, who would lead them? Their nominal commander, the uninspired line-officer Tarvitz, had clearly only received his appointment as a result of his unflagging duty and loyalty as opposed to any talent for command or initiative on his part. The shock of Tikan's death still reverbated, a blow every Astartes bearing his gene-seed could feel, though those spawned from the Crucibles felt it less strongly. The ratio between cloned and natural legionaries was now completely out of balance, for Tikan had taken the elite of the legion with him to the east, and the best genetic stock was now lost along with most of the esoteric Crucibles themselves, their wargear and equipment no doubt seized by the Thirteenth as trophies.

As the Fifth remained stationary on their self-enforced exile, the consequences of cloning from less-desirable sources rapidly became apparent. Rather than experienced veterans and decorated heroes, any and all legionaries deemed genetically compatible with the ill-understood devices were forcibly utilized, leading to more machines breaking. Many of these new recruits came out with whole bodies and damaged minds, a complete lack of coordination and reflexes that would have come naturally to a more conventional recruit. With this dangerous combination of inexperience and helplessness, it was only natural that the Fifth began to hate their father, just as the World Eaters did before them. Tikan had been proud but not vain, and so there were very few monuments to him upon Chemos. However, even these few reminders were soon extirpated as his sons toppled his statues and excised his name in a misguided attempt to distance themselves from the failure they now viewed him as. A deep-seated hatred took root in the Fifth Legion, one matched only by the complete loathing for the Thirteenth Legion which had so humiliated them. Many legion veterans began to carve deep scars into their armor and flesh, reminders of the blood-debt they owed.

Thus when the Lion's agents finally came to discover what had become of the Fifth, they discovered an entirely new legion, one far more vicious, independent, and motivated than they had been before. The Fifth was now a legion in name only, for each company had seized control of their own Crucibles, which they were rapidly burning through as they churned out tens of thousands of new legionaries with little overall goal beyond revenge. What little control Tarvitz held had quickly slipped away, for the rebellious captains under his command knew he lacked enough charisma to hold them under his control as Tikan had done when he was alive. However, the Lion was not about to allow the Fifth to disrupt his plans by throwing away their forces against their own nominal allies the Ultramarines, at least not until Terra had been taken, and this sentiment was made very clear by one of his sons, an Astartes by the name of Captain Ormand. The Dark Angel's display of force against the most outspoken and rebellious captains soon established a reputation that he, not Tarvitz, was now in command.

Under Ormand's instructions, the best of the new Astartes were shipped off to support the advance, while the less viable were kept upon Chemos itself, a stockpile for the eventual invasion of Terra. The Fifth Legion was now a new force to be reckoned with, one hypno-indoctrinated into a culture of vengeance and war, and their arrival soon tipped the balance back in the traitor's favor. During their absence, the loyalist defenders of Bastion Omega had begun to push back, taking advantage of the infighting that had become ever-more present amongst the traitor's ranks. The two largest traitor armies, those of the Fourth and Seventh Legions, had begun to turn their ire toward each other, while the Third, Ninth, Thirteenth, and Fifteenth Legions were more focused upon their new daemonic patrons. Thus the men of the Fifth Legion, while inexperienced, seemed effective in comparison, for they were utterly dedicated to crushing the Imperium as a result of their indoctrination. Aiding them in this endeavor were the forces of the Flesh Tearers, led by their peerless commander Nassir Amit, whose mastery of battle inspired the Fifth to rename themselves, a rebranding accompanied by a new armor color to better match their allies. Now the Fifth were to bear crimson armor, save for the self-inflicted white scars which gave them their name and struck fear in their enemies. So too did they pick up the tactics of the other legions they fought alongside and against, all the while retaining their preference for speed and the blade-dancing combat style of the Sulpha.

Thus for all intents and purposes, it seemed to all, especially the loyalists unaware of the events at Ultramar, that the Fifth was more numerous and powerful than ever before. However, behind this facade of glory present on the frontlines was the hidden secret that the legion was rapidly burning itself out. Though few suspected it, Tarvitz harbored ambition of his own, and had no wish to throw away what few of his brothers remained solely to win glory for Ormand. Research into the Dark Angel's past soon revealed he was a devoted lieutenant of Luther, the former Legion Master of the First Legion, whose treachery and connivance was spoken of in hushed whispers. Tarvitz soon realized Ormand's aid was part of some sort of power struggle instigated by Luther to gain power in the First Legion. However, the Legion Master of the newly-renamed White Scars knew all too well he could not openly defy the Dark Angels lest he incur the Lion's attention and therefore wrath. Political maneuvering soon began to occupy much of Tarvitz's time as he and Ormand strove to out-do each other, all the while bringing Chemos to the brink of death as they stripped the world of its limited resources. Soon both factions were importing technology and laborers to meet ever-growing quotas, establishing vast power relays across the world to sustain the dying Crucibles, whose complex natures were beyond any of the Astartes or New Mechanicum agents present.

However, the immense strain upon Chemos was about to come to an unexpected end with the arrival of an Imperial strike force. Nearly five years after the death of Jaghatai Khan, a fleet of Raven Guard assaulted the homeworld of the Fifth Legion, destroying the world and all upon it. Tarvitz was not present when this occurred, having been off-world to personally oversee a supply transfer, and his fury at discovering this loss was tempered only by the satisfaction that Ormand had perished as well. Luther's agent had personally fought the loyalists, leading from the frontlines as he defended Callax in his Cataphractii terminator armor. However, there was little time for recriminations, for the Lion was calling his forces to the penultimate confrontation, to shatter the final defenses barring their way into the Solar System. Mustering the few thousand legionaries still at his command, Tarvitz brought his forces to unite with the rest of his legion, perhaps fifty thousand in total. Accompanied by forces from four other legions, and a staggering thirty trillion mortal soldiers, the White Scars prepared to assault the Alpha Centauri System, one of the primary Warp-nexii leading into the heart of Segmentum Solar.

As befit their preferred method of waging war, the White Scars were part of the first wave, lightning-fast outriders whose speed the loyalists struggled to match. Even as the defenders struggled to catch them, they were caught by the arrival of the rest of the traitor armada, and before long, the White Scars found themselves fighting upon Verzagen itself, the primary world of the Alpha Centauri System. Many loyalists fell before their strange blade-dancing style of combat, the sole legacy of destroyed Chemos, and savage competitions were held with their Flesh Tearer allies to see which could slaughter more of the defenders. Soon Verzagen and the other fortress-worlds were wholly in traitor hands, though not without significant cost. Nearly a fifth of the Fifth fell fighting for Alpha Centauri, but it was well worth it, for now there were no significant obstacles barring their path to the Solar System. Over the following months, the White Scars continued to fight alongside the Flesh Tearers, acting as outriders and scouts to harry the Imperials while the rest of the traitor forces mustered in preparation for the final jump. When the time came to rejoin their allies, the White Scars and Flesh Tearers returned to the fleet muster, joining the tens of thousands of other ships as they transited the Warp, protected from contrary tides and the predation of daemons by the will of the Ruinous Powers, who watched over the armies of their champion as he carried out their will.

The vast fleet emerged in the heart of the Solar System, streaming out of the dark portal created in Jupiter's Great Red Spot by the sons of Magnus. Now free to roam once more, the White Scars rocketed into the void, maneuvering into the area of space above the solar plane, where they clashed with the defenders who were stationed there to prevent any intrusions toward Terra from above. With the loss of so many jetbikes at Ultramar, the Fifth had turned to alternative tools in their arsenal to obtain the velocities they desired. Thus the legion took to the skies in surplus Xiphon Interceptors, an aircraft long renowned for being so demanding on the pilots that only Astartes could use them. These venerable superiority fighters had long been mothballed by most legions save for the Dark Angels, who had turned over their stocks to the Fifth to use them to great effect in duels against mortal pilots unused to facing such nimble craft. Thus the swarms of White Scars fighter squadrons scored hundreds of kills on their slower and ungainly opponents attempting to retreat from Jupiter, and they proved almost as effective in the Asteroid Belt campaigns.

As the fleet approached Terra, the White Scars turned to other craft, utilizing Dreadclaw drop pods to board enemy vessels that had been unable to reach Terra in time. The system-wide vox network resounded with the screams of these inhabitants, countless thousands tortured for no other reason than a target for their frustration. A deep-seated hatred of both sides had begun to set in across the Fifth, and they took this opportunity to let out some of their anger at both the Lion's forces for allowing the Fifth to be slaughtered by their own allies in addition to the disgust they felt toward the loyalists. The outer moons and satellite-stations of the Solar System were depopulated one by one, their people hunted for sport while their youth were stolen away to be later implanted with gene-seed, for the last few Crucibles had become all but unusable by this point. The laboratories of Luna were of particular interest to the veterans, who were familiar with the history of the Selenar's expertise in genetics, but to their frustration, all the databanks had been purged and the vital personnel evacuated or slain by the Imperial Fists by the time they landed. Thus the White Scars began to ransack the entirety of Luna, wrecking everything they could find in an orgy of frustrated violence lasting for weeks.

Their depredations eventually came to an end when the Lion recalled them to be part of the assault on Terra itself. Recognizing their limited use in a protracted siege, the honor of claiming the skies fell to them, and so the sons of Tikan, though few called themselves that anymore due to their disgust at their father's weakness, descended upon Terra in their fighters once more. Their goal was the orbital sky plates, dozens of vast floating fortresses the size of cities which orbited above the gray dead soil below. Once home to countless millions, the orbital plates were now covered in guns, bristling with firepower which they hurled into the skies at the traitor fleet blotting out the void above them. One by one the White Scars swarmed over each one of the hundreds of floating gun platforms which Vulkan and the other defenders of Terra had crafted. This was bitter but necessary work, offering little glory, but a task only the White Scars with their insane speed could handle without suffering overwhelming losses. As it was, thousands died to take the minor platforms, while countless more fought in ongoing battles to seize the plates, trading blows with the Salamanders and Alpha Legion who infested the city-sized craft. One by one, these vast floating agglomerations were seized and disabled. Most were sent crashing down into the loyalists below, spreading fear and panic as they exploded, engulfing the ground around them in fire and death. The larger orbital plates were relics of the Dark Age of Technology, each one an irreparable loss to Humanity's cultural heritage, but the White Scars cared not, stripping them of valuables before hurling them into the ground below.

The last of these larger stations, the Skye Plate, took almost two months to seize control of, and the sons of Chemos were far from feeling merciful by the time they finally took control. With malicious glee, the Skye was sent falling directly onto the Imperial Palace, its sheer bulk driving straight through the already-strained Aegis shields to crash into the Imperial Fleet Headquarters and the walls connecting to it. While the magnitude of the explosion left a massive hole in the defense, it was not one that could be exploited by the traitors, for it landed within the Inner Walls still held by the loyalists. However, even this feat drew little attention from their allies, who themselves had the gall to claim the White Scars were not helping enough during the Siege. Tired by constant neglect and betrayal, and unhindered by morality, what little control Tarvitz had finally slipped away entirely. Vast lances of jetbikes, most stolen from other legions, began to prowl the battlefields, killing at random as the Fifth Legion loosed its frustration upon those who had ignored them for so long. Both friend and foe fell beneath their blades as the Siege wore on, but their treachery was to have dire consequences, as Saul Tarvitz found out to his dismay. After their efforts in the Xinic Hives suffered some casualties from a rampaging party of White Scars, the Emperor's Children swore revenge, biding their time until they could get close. Led by one Captain Lucius, the Emperor's Children fell upon Tarvitz in the midst of battle, stabbing him hundreds of times with their rusty plague-knives before dragging his mangled corpse to their camp to mount on one of their vast siege-towers they were in the process of constructing.

After his death, total anarchy descended upon the forces of the White Scars. Though ineffectual, Tarvitz had been the last unifying force pointing the legion toward a goal that wasn't completely self-serving. With the Lion's attention elsewhere, now each company was free to follow whatever anarchic desires they wished, yet another fracture in an already-splintered legion. However, most of these forces sensed victory was at hand, for the Outer Walls had finally been breached by the traitor titans, and so the White Scars joined their brethren in the mad scramble to ransack the Inner Palace. Their jetbikes gave them much greater mobility compared to their foot-slogging allies, and they took great pleasure in racing through the spires and labyrinthine walls, killing and destroying at random. They took particular interest in ransacking the Hall of Records, that vast edifice maintained by the Administratum contained all the data ever gathered during the Great Crusade, thus condemning the Imperium to ignorance should it survive beyond the Siege of Terra.

Their great mobility also enabled the White Scars to escape much faster than their allies, for as news of the loyalist reinforcements eventually arrived, the Fifth Legion wasted no time in falling back. As they lacked any semblance of unity, each ship was left on its own to effect their escape, and dozens of companies managed to run the loyalist gauntlet and escape the Solar System. Many others escaped aboard the vessels of Sigismund, First Captain of the Imperial Fists, who collected thousands of traitor legionaries who had been unable to escape on their own. The Black Knight and his rag-tag army fought their way free of Terra, eventually making their way toward the warp storm north of Segmentum Solar known as the Eye of Terror. There the Eternal Crusader sought out its own path apart from the rest of the Seventh Legion.

However, the White Scars were far from content in serving one such as Sigismund, for the independence they had tasted during the Siege was far too sweet. Many of the veterans had learned it was Sigismund's forces specifically which had destroyed the laboratories of Luna before they could get their hands on the technology which might have aided them in restoring their Crucibles, now totally ruined from overuse. So it was that while the Destroyer was busy establishing his own empire within the confines of the Eye, a force of White Scars led by Captain Julius Kaesoron, now claiming the mantle of First Captain after the death of Tarvitz, raided one of Sigismund's bases, seizing ships as well as a vast repository of gene-seed which the Black Knight had taken from Luna during the Siege. Not waiting to face the Destroyer's wrath, the White Scars fled the Eye entirely, slipping its confines and traveling across the lawless galaxy to reunite with the rest of their brethren inside the warp storm which had long overshadowed their now-ruined homeworld, the dreaded Maelstrom. Since then, the warbands of the Fifth Legion have plagued the galaxy, occasionally emerging to wreak havoc and plunder worlds as they attempt to satiate their hatred and greed. There is no unity amongst them, for each company has become totally independent, and neither Kaesoron nor any other legionary can claim to hold ultimate authority over them. They have become a collection of storms, embodying the elemental anarchy that is Chaos, and the galaxy shudders as the White Scars continue to unleash their destructive fury across time and space.

Homeworld, Recruitment, and Gene-seed

Even in the days of the Great Crusade, it is said that the Fifth Legion never had a permanent home. Before they discovered their primarch, the legion recruited from Terra, as did all the others, but they did not spend nearly as much time there, instead preferring to be exploring out amongst the stars. Their reunion with Jaghatai Khan did not change this, as he quickly learned to despise Chemos, the dreary gray backwater where he grew up. It is said the Khan returned perhaps only half a dozen times in total, preferring to send his sons when he required anything. After his death, the Star Hunters began removing everything of value as part of their drive to distance themselves from everything related to their gene-sire, and few wept at its destruction at the hands of the Raven Guard during the Leonine Heresy. The legion never had the opportunity to establish a new central hub of operations, becoming entirely-fleet based as they joined the rest of the traitors in the drive to Terra. Those who survived Terra had no interest in creating a new base for their enemies to target, and instead scattered to the astral winds, ravaging the galaxy for decades before eventually fleeing the forces of the Scouring.

Pushed out of realspace, most of these warbands fled to the dubious safety of the Maelstrom, the permanent Warp-storm located close to the Aquitane Sector. This vast rift, second only to the Eye of Terror in size, is located near the galactic core, and its shoals are filled with dozens of lesser storms, creating an area of wilderness space utterly inimical to order. During the Great Crusade, hundreds of ships were lost attempting to scout out or navigate around the Maelstrom, many crashing upon worlds that to this day are still inhabited by their descendants. Other worlds are infested with minor ork empires or the homeworlds of minor xenos races, whose domains move in and out of its tides as they wax and wane over the course of centuries, exposing new sectors to violent turbulence while revealing other systems to have changed locations entirely during the time they were submerged beneath the tides of insanity. At its heart lies the domain of the Ultramarines, who maintain an iron grip over their empire of excess. However, their domains of decadence are never safe, for countless renegades and pirates also call it home, including the White Scars who also roam the storms. Rapacious even compared to the other pirates inhabiting the Maelstrom, the fleets of the Fifth constantly raid the worlds on the fringes of the Maelstrom border, seizing resources and murdering without any regard to decency or ownership.

It is during these raids that the White Scars recruit new legionaries. The Crucibles which once provided their cloned aspirants have long since been destroyed, though few Chaos Space Marines would have the patience to safely operate these esoteric devices regardless. Thus the White Scars are constantly on the move, not only to stay ahead of their numberless enemies but also to constantly seek out new worlds to plunder the treasure they seek, including genetically-compatible neophytes. Most of the worlds on the Maelstrom's edge bear high rates of mutation in their populations, but enough remain more or less unscathed to support a constant influx of new recruits to maintain the White Scars' numbers. There is no unified recruiting effort between the various warbands, and most youths are simply stolen during these raids. The gene-seed of the Fifth Legion is remarkably stable compared to the other legions, loyal or traitor, with no known tendencies toward missing organs or other defects aside from increased ferocity in battle. This purity is further aided by the fact the White Scars spend far more time in realspace than the other legions, not tied down to any particular world as they travel from system to system.

Their piratical nature, combined with their blood red armor, has led many to label them Red Corsairs, though each warband has their own names for themselves that change every time a new commander takes control. The Inquisition has long attempted to categorize these warbands and trace their lineage to the companies of old, but such is an exercise in futility, for they never stay the same for long. There are a few exceptions to this however, for warbands led by daemon princes tend to keep the same name, for it is much harder for aspiring champions to overthrow an immortal. One example of this phenomenon is the Wild Hunt, a Slaanesh-aligned warband renowned for its excessive speed and cruelty, even compared to the rest of the White Scars.

Doomrider

Sanity dissolves with the sound of the Doomrider's engines. Once an ordinary Astartes, this champion of Chaos was empowered when he bound multiple daemons of Slaanesh into himself and his bike. Though his true identity has been lost to time, many believe him to be an agent of the Dead Khan, the lost potential of a betrayed brother now puppeting a pale-skinned corpse with flaming hair to obtain vengeance. This daemon prince stalks the galaxy relentlessly, wielding a flaming sword as he rides between dimensions at will upon his accursed steed, a gargantuan assault bike which fires bolts of pure Warp energy. When he arrives, war becomes a struggle of all against all, terror and panic gripping even the sturdiest of hearts. He rides without any clear goal, slaughtering all in his path, accompanied by the Wild Hunt, his Warband composed of hordes of half-daemonic cavalry who ride unbound by the laws of gravity.

In the wake of their unstoppable charge, isolated survivors run blindly, their hearts gripped by terror as they seek to escape their hunters. Most of these hapless souls are hunted down for sport, their souls fed to the daemon engines used by the warband as mounts, but for reasons known only to him, some are spared. It is in the moment of their greatest panic, when the acceptance of death finally sets in, that the terror begins to recede. The tides of madness they were drowning in give way, revealing noble warriors who accept them into the brotherhood of their hunting party. The Doomrider now appears to them as an honorable lord, welcoming them into his ranks as a favored servant. The new traitors are unaware of the corruption seeping in as they mount up, oblivious to their flesh melding with that of their new steeds as they ride away, one more agent of madness taking part in the never-ending Wild Hunt.

Combat Doctrines and Organization

Despite being divided into dozens of warbands, the Renegade Astartes of the White Scars have an incredibly simple set of combat doctrines. This is more remarkable based on the fact many warbands consist of legionaries who do not bear the same gene-seed. Any and all Astartes who turn their back on the Imperium of Man are welcome to bear the colors of the Red Corsairs, an offer which countless thousands have taken up over the millennia. Many renegade companies from all of the Legions have found it easier to take the Red than the Black, for the Renegade Corsairs worship no gods whereas the Heretic Templars are far more aligned to Chaos. The road to damnation consists of many steps, and to embrace the independence of the White Scars in rejecting the Imperium seems a much smaller one than the outright denouncement of the Emperor himself. For many Astartes, this is an enticement which has led them to fall. Their numbers were swelled greatly during the Abyssal Crusade, which saw over twenty chapters plunge into the Eye of Terror, many of which somehow managed to emerge in the Maelstrom through some inexplicable vagary of the Warp. Others have joined after being cut off from their allies, trapped within the unpredictable tides until they became tainted. Still others have taken the Red willingly, spurning their allegiance to their legion or the Imperium in exchange for a position of power.

However, the life of a Corsair is anything but secure. The various warbands remain in a constant state of anarchy, for every legionary desires to seize what he sees as his rightful share of power and loot. Each fleet is a warband unto itself, composed of varying numbers of ships and legionaries depending on their fortunes. Accompanying them are countless human reavers, pirates, and other Chaotic scum, scavengers whose presence is tolerated by greater predators. These gatherings have a fluid structure, constantly changing as legionaries and their lackeys flock to up-and-coming warlords, to those who can promise a greater share of the loot than their rivals. Periodically they will set off on raids, their commanders assuming the title of Huntmaster as they prepare to descend upon new victims to plunder and murder to their hearts' content. Such Huntmasters are essentially the equivalent of captains in other, more organized legions, as they remain subject to the Chaos Lords, who often go by grandiose titles such as Supreme Commodore or Admiral of the Void, which constantly change depending on their mood. A successful Chaos Lord is one who can play his Huntmasters off of each other, keeping them constantly engaged acquiring loot for the warband as opposed to wasting resources on infighting or other such petty squabbles. Each legionary rises or falls based on his fortune, in both senses of the word, for as he gains more wealth, the more power he obtains and the more envy he attracts.

As such, the Corsair Lords of the Fifth Legion are some of the wealthiest and most despised individuals in the galaxy. Their exact number is unknown, though assuredly small, and their resources are beyond compare, putting even the most ostentatious of Rogue Traders or Imperial governors to shame. Each commands the allegiance of dozens of lesser warbands, though many are sworn to more than one Lord at a time, and can call upon vast fleets of reavers to support their privateering efforts. Their names have become bywords for rapine and savagery: Kaesoron the Conqueror; the Doomrider; Kor'sarro of the Bloodtide. Many have become Daemon Princes, immortal warlords who have cemented their control over their warbands so firmly as to attract the favor of the Ruinous Powers. Every warrior of the White Scars seeks to join their ranks, but few ever climb this ladder, held back by fate and the envy of their fellows, all of whom would kill their brothers before seeing them ascend to mastery. Even daemonhood is no assurance, for the jealousies of the dark gods and their minions are just as potent, and immortality is no guarantee of success. However, it is infamy, even more than power, that is an indication of ascendance, and as such, the Inquisition has long kept tabs on which White Scars are the most likely to ascend to the rank of Supreme Corsair Lord. As of the 41st Millennium, most believe the next candidate to be the warlord known as Huron Blackheart.

Huron Blackheart, the Tyrant of Badab

A living testament to the diversity found among the White Scars, the warlord Huron Blackheart is the latest in a long line of renegade Astartes who have turned their backs upon the Imperium of Man. Once known as Captain Lufgt Huron of the Astral Claws, a chapter of the Sons of Horus, this bold warrior made a name for himself due to his good governance of the Badab Sector, located on the southwestern edge of the Maelstrom. After the death of their chapter master, Huron assumed command, leading his brothers to many victories. However, success quickly went to his head, and after refusing to yield command after a joint operation with several other chapters of the Sons of Horus, the High Lords of Terra declared the Astral Claws renegade despite the pleas of Legion Master Imset to be allowed to mediate the situation. A force of Raven Guard were called upon to exterminate the supposedly-secessionist Astral Claws, and they responded with all the alacrity their legion was known for in responding to the command of the High Lords, attacking Huron's forces without any warning or declaration of intentions. Believing they had been betrayed, the Astral Claws and their fellow chapters defended themselves, and for over ten years, the war for Badab raged on, a pointless drain on resources.

At the climax of the conflict, Lufgt Huron was badly wounded by a melta blast. His men recovered his body, fleeing into the Maelstrom where they were inevitably corrupted as all who enter that realm of madness are. When he was next seen, now going by the name Huron Blackheart, he was more machine than man, for most of his body had been replaced with bionics. It seems the Astral Claws made a daemonic pact in exchange for survival, for at Blackheart's side was a creature known only as the Hamadrya, a being of unknown but immense power. Since then, the Astral Claws have become a powerful force within the Red Corsairs, pillaging countless worlds as Blackheart builds up a substantial following. It is said his forces include oathbreakers from a hundred chapters and a dozen legions, and the powers of Chaos favor his cause to an extent unseen in the other warbands of the White Scars. Blackheart has made no secret of his ambition to not only become a Corsair Lord, but to become greater than the legions of old, earning him the enmity of both other White Scars such as Kaesoron, as well as Sigismund the Destroyer, who despises this impertinent upstart more than any other.

Regardless of their original legion, the warbands of the White Scars place preeminent emphasis on speed. Both as a result of obtaining their equipment through plunder, as well as legion doctrine, the White Scars possess few artillery or infantry. Dreadnoughts are all but unseen amongst their ranks, and most would rather die than be forever condemned to such a lethargic existence. As a result, bionics have become incredibly common amongst the legionaries of the Fifth, most of which are stolen from Astartes they kill in battle or scavenged from their own fallen brothers. However, aircraft are the exception to this rule, and every warband of note possesses an extensive air wing, which is utilized to devastating effect at each battle. The first most worlds learn of a White Scar invasion is the screaming engines of their bombers dropping their payloads upon population centers, a tactic designed to disorientate and confuse the defenders and keep them from responding while the next wave arrives. This second assault almost always consists of bike squads, which form the backbone of any White Scar assault as they charge headlong regardless of the odds. Contrary to Imperial doctrine, which favors the use of bikes as mobile fire support, the bikers of the White Scars are designed for the thrill of melee combat, the roar of engines overshadowed by the roar of their chainswords. Few mortals can stand up to such a hateful assault, and those that do never last long, for the White Scars remain constantly on the move, racing in and out of the midst of their foes as they continually fall back only to return for another attack. Other times they surround an unfortunate foe, circling them as they drive at ritualistically-significant speeds which rip open a hole in reality in the same manner as a vortex grenade, sucking their screaming victims into the Warp to be torn to pieces by waiting daemons.

Aside from aircraft and bikes, the White Scars have managed to implement their preference for speed in units in many unorthodox ways. All infantry squads are mechanized, extremely competent in fighting on the move on the backs of their transports, a mastery rivaled perhaps only by the Iron Hands. Even their terminator squads are incredibly fast, sporting extensive modifications to increase their mobility far beyond that which is seen in other legions. This is most evident in their Blade Dancers, a formation unique to those warbands which have existed since the days of the Leonine Heresy. As their name suggests, the Blade Dancers are highly competent swordsmen, utilizing a fighting technique that is as much of an artform as it is a weapon, and remains perhaps the sole link to the destroyed Chemos of old. However, terminators are few in number amongst the warbands of the White Scars, for such relics are guarded jealously, and their slow speed means they will always retain lesser importance to the various types of biker squads. Unlike most Chaos legions, the White Scars have maintained their preference for jetbikes, despite the increased complexity of maintenance compared to ground-based bikes. Most often they train aboard their starships, racing through the tight confines of engine decks, beheading and maiming their mortal crew at random for the thrill of it.

The most powerful and wealthy warbands include sorcerers amongst their ranks, whose valuable talents allow them to extract exorbitant tribute in exchange for their aid. These corrupt mercenaries often utilize their powers to boost their allies' speeds to mind-numbing blurs upon the battlefield, and few swordsmen last long against such an attack. Even lesser swordsmen become inordinately skilled as their bladework moves at lightning speeds, and there are few forces capable of withstanding the crushing force of a squad of terminators moving faster than a bike as time folds around them. However, such sorcerers are few in number, as a single misstep can see the unlucky Astartes dragged into the Warp by the daemons he thought to command. Those warbands which cannot afford their services often turn to utilizing jump packs, fleshmetal growths extending from their back to accompany the claws and talons which mark them as Raptors. The truly corrupted of these are known as Warp Talons, whose lightning claws are capable of piercing the veil between realities in order to improve their mobility as they seek out new prey to hunt. However, such power comes at a price, and even amongst the insane minions of Chaos, the Warp Talons are particularly crazed, unable to walk normally or even speak.

As a result of their piratical nature, the White Scars have few allies. Interactions with other traitor legions are most often negative, though they are open to mercenary work. This has occurred most frequently with Sigismund the Destroyer, who has employed them multiple times in order to undertake raids on Imperial defenses around the Maelstrom in order to draw forces away from the Cadian Gate. However, not all warbands are willing to work for the Black Templars, regardless of the reward or how loose the arrangement is. Kaesoron the Conqueror has remained a persistent foe to the Destroyer since the Scouring, where he betrayed Sigismund and stole his valuable hoard of gene-seed, while others such as Huron Blackheart make no secret of their disdain for the other legions. Aside from these mercenary contracts, the White Scars are most often allied with the pirate scum they allow to accompany their raids, both human and even xenos. The Fifth is perhaps the most open of all the Nine Traitor Legions to working with aliens, for they will accept contracts from almost any employer so long as the pay is good enough. However, that does not mean they are above breaking their oaths should the opportunity arise, and the Maelstrom is full of the bones of those who believed they could trust the Red Corsairs. The White Scars have comparatively few encounters with most of the traitor legions, for they operate in the Maelstrom rather than the Eye of Terror, but most look down upon the Corsairs for being a mongrel mix of bloodlines.

As one of the Nine Traitor Legions, the White Scars are sworn enemies of the Imperium of Man. This grudge runs especially deep between them and the Death Guard, who have nurtured a lasting hate for the legion that betrayed them so long ago. Aside from the Imperium, whose worlds form the targets for their depredations, the most common foe of the White Scars is the Ultramarines. No White Scar, regardless of his experience or power, has ever accepted a contract from the Thirteenth Legion, even those warbands aligned to Slaanesh, for such Chaos Lords are inordinately proud. The Corsairs have maintained an abiding hatred for the sons of Guilliman for their betrayal ten thousand years ago, and have never ceased raiding them in the millennia since. Near the end of the Siege of Terra, many of the opportunistic raids aimed at the other legions were directed at the Ultramarines as they raided the hives of Merica, slaughtering them from above as they stumbled back to their ships. The two legions battled during the Scouring, and the duchies of decadence have been assaulted more often than any other target over the past ten millennia. They have even gone so far as to ally with the War Hounds, whose nihilism makes them utterly untrustworthy, in order to wreak greater havoc on Laestrygon and its satellites. The prospect of killing Ultramarines is one of the few enticements that can draw multiple warbands to one location without internecine conflict, and the White Scars are determined to maintain this grudge until every last member of the Thirteenth is destroyed and their empire of vanity burnt to ashes.

Beliefs and Warcry

"What did you think you would get when you crossed the one man who never wanted your enclosing walls, your chains, with an empire of liars who abandoned him? You get what you deserve. -Julius Kaesoron to Shade Lord Arkhas Fal, Battle of Xendu, First Black Crusade

Even compared to the other eight Traitor Legions, the Astartes of the White Scars are remarkably self-centered. Each and every legionary regardless of their experience bears a lasting grudge against the other legions, the Imperium, and the galaxy as a whole. A deep and abiding resentment has festered in their hearts, a chip on their shoulders towards an uncaring universe which has seen them continually ignored and degraded for the entirety of their existence. Indeed, though comparatively few know of the existence of Chaos Space Marines, those that do consistently downplay the threat posed by the Fifth Legion. Most often they are classified as a particularly dangerous type of pirate, a peril far below that of their traitor cousins such as the Black Templars. Their complete lack of unity has obscured their numbers in a way not seen in larger legions, and without any accurate estimates, it remains difficult to assess their true size. However, the seething resentment borne by the Red Corsairs should not be underestimated. It is a smoldering fire lurking in their hearts, driving them to commit any atrocity in order to satisfy their twisted desires for attention. Countless innocents have died at their hands, robbed of their possessions, their lives, and their very hope, for rumors abound of the horrific conditions inflicted on those they take prisoner. Occasionally the White Scars will ransom such wretches, not to their families or worlds but to the Dark Eldar, who inflict agonies more deeply than the Corsairs could ever hope to.

As noted elsewhere, the White Scars have an almost compulsive need for attention, which is manifested through the insane velocities at which they prefer to operate. They favor quantity over quality, seeking to inflict as many atrocities as they can on as many worlds as possible to create the greatest volume of foul deeds imaginable. They firmly believe it is better to be infamous than forgotten, and have thus committed countless sins and betrayals to further spread their name. This has often come at the detriment of their nominal allies, as was the case during the First Black Crusade. In the aftermath of the Siege of Terra, several thousand legionaries, primarily the few remaining clones, were rescued from the Throneworld by Sigismund, Legion Master of the Imperial Fists. For many years they served under him, fighting as his outriders as he established his base of power in the Eye of Terror. During the First Black Crusade, they were vital in stopping the Raven Guard from completing their boarding action of the Eternal Crusader, a battle which saw Julius Kaesoron turn the tide by personally killing Shade Lord Arkhas Fal, an act which earned him ascension to Daemonhood. However, instigated by a desire for fame and power, the Conqueror and his associates decided they preferred the glory of being their own masters, and shortly thereafter raided the gene-seed supplies Sigismund had been hoarding for centuries before fleeing to escape the Destroyer's wrath. However, rather than take it for themselves, Kaesoron's forces simply destroyed the countless genetic legacies, for it seems as though the cloned legionaries had long harbored a resentment against their more conventionally-created brethren.

This type of treachery is all too common when dealing with the White Scars. No matter how short-sighted or pointless an action may seem, if it advances their personal infamy, the Red Corsairs will do it without a second thought, and individual legionaries will not hesitate to throw away a battle to pursue their own agendas. As such, only the desperate call upon their aid in battle, all the while knowing that an army that cannot trust itself can never be trusted even as mercenaries. The concept of oaths is meaningless to them, for they regard the universe as already having betrayed them and thus are free to break any bargain should the need arise. However, their skill in battle is undeniable, and thus they do not lack for potential employment, most often from the insane and desperate. Their creed of anarchy keeps each legionary believing himself to be more important than anything else, and the sons of Chemos look down upon those who do not share this mindset as nothing more than sheep, including their long-dead father.

It is easy to see how the deaths of the primarchs affected their legions. From the World Eaters to the Night Lords to the Raven Guard and beyond, those Astartes who know their gene-sire to be dead have been affected whether they will it or not. The White Scars are no exception to this: Jaghatai Khan's memory is utterly reviled by his sons, primarily for failing to establish his legion as one of the premier fighting forces either before or during the Leonine Heresy. His death at the hands of Guilliman ensured his legacy would be considered one of failure, even by his own sons, who have renounced their very names to escape being associated with him. Chemos is likewise forgotten, its only legacy being the few legionaries who have survived ten thousand years of warfare as well as the Blade Dancer squadrons. The White Scars thus lack a distinctive legion culture of their own, instead substituting the cultural heritage from all the worlds they have raided and the legion cultures of the traitors who have made their new home amongst their ranks.

More than any other, the White Scars are proof that it was not the homeworlds that made certain Primarchs and their legions betray the Emperor. As noted before, the gene-seed of the White Scars shows no known defects, no mutations, and thus can be ruled out as the instrument of their fall. Rather, it seems as though it was not their circumstances, but the mental state of their Primarchs. Jaga Tikan consistently refused to interact with his world, and thus it seems likely that being ignored caused him to turn his back on the Imperium in favor of the Lion's claims to honor him. The White Scars must surely know this, but they continue to revile their father while at the same time taking advantage of the absolute freedom offered by their lifestyles. Anarchy for its own sake is both a means and an end for the Red Corsairs, and none have ever shown remorse when they are slain in battle. They do not fight for glory, for honor, or even for power. They wish only to watch the galaxy burn, and to be its arsonists if at all possible.

The armor of the Fifth Legion has changed multiple times over the millennia. Before reuniting with their primarch, and for most of the Leonine Heresy, the Star Hunters wore unmarked gray armor, for they saw no reason to embellish a battle-plate that would not be seen regardless as they zoomed by. After the death of Tikan, a deep crimson red became the default paint scheme, accompanied by deep scars gouged into the plate in memory of the fallen, thus earning the legion their current name. Though the White Scars have long since stopped caring about their fallen, they continue to mark their armor in this fashion, so as to strike fear in the hearts of their foes. Though few Imperials notice such details, it is not lost on one particular foe: the Orks. Ever since Chondax, the greenskins have clashed with the Fifth Legion many times, often as their pirate fleets clash with the Freebootaz that inhabit the Maelstrom. Just as the black and white of the Goffs Clan is hypothesized to relate to the armor of the Luna Wolves who thrashed them on Ullanor, the red armor of the Speed Freakz is most likely related to and taken from their battles with the Red Corsairs. However this is just a hypothesis, for the White Scars most certainly do not care, and attempting to ask a greenskin such psychological questions is utterly pointless. Anecdotes aside, each legionary's battle-plate is a jumbled mess of components taken from dozens of sources, and no two are alike. So too are the legion's battlecries unique in content: before, during, and after every battle with the Red Corsairs, all vox frequencies are filled with the most vile swear words, threats, and expletives imaginable. Such obscenity serves to not only provoke the pious to anger at their blasphemy and strike fear in the cowardly, but also has the side-effect of preventing their foes from communicating effectively in battle.

Huron spat, his wine now sour compared to the sweet savor of screams. This particular cry of agony had been elicited from one of Magnus's sons, Khayon or something like that. It was really his own fault, Huron mused, for trusting a Drukhari wych of any kind, let alone one who claimed to know Blackheart. Huron was on the verge of ordering the torturer to remove Khayon's vocal cords, but a stray thought stayed his hand, and at a signal, the artisans stepped back, allowing the son of Magnus to catch his breath.

"Why are you here, sorcerer?" Blackheart demanded. The Thousand Son attempted to speak, his breath ragged, but before he could do so, another voice chimed in.

+The Everchosen of Chaos requests your aid.+ Huron whirled around to find the speaker, who was revealed to be a wizened crone. Staring down at this unexpected interloper, Huron was on the verge of grabbing her with his clawed gauntlet before realizing the voice came from within his head. A psyker. Great.

"Who are you, witch?" He demanded.

+I have gone by many names, but you may call me Moriana.+

"Whatever. You and Magnus's whelp are both fools." Huron spat. In one swift motion, Blackheart flicked his Tyrant's Claw backwards, beheading Khayon in the blink of an eye. "Here is what I think of your demand. What is the Everchosen to me? The Destroyer should know by now I will never bend the knee to him. Now begone, before I let loose Hamadrya here." The crone remained calm, unphased by Blackheart's threat or by the sheer malevolent hatred radiating from the daemon perched upon his shoulder.

+I never said I worked for the Destroyer.+

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A/N: Oh boy. White Scars. The sons of Jaghatai, or Jaga Tikan as he is known here. I'll be honest, they're not my favorite legion. I don't really understand the hype behind Scars and Path of Heaven, and even this Index is one of the shortest in length, hearkening back to one of the earlier entries such as the Raven Guard. However, that is not to say I did not try my best to make it interesting. The concept of cloning was one of the first ideas I came up with for them, but the creation of the Votann cloneskeins made everything fit together, including the Thin-Bloods of the Ultramarines. It was a bit of a challenge deciding which legionaries to include here versus which to give to the Emperor's Children, but I hope you all enjoyed the tales of Saul Tarvitz, Kaesoron the Conqueror, and Huron Blackheart as much as I enjoyed writing them. Next up will be the Iron Warriors, who are by far my favorite traitor legion. In terms of personal tragedy and story length, you haven't seen anything yet.

Sharrowkyn, out.