Storm Draugar

"Tá muid as iarann agus cloch. Iompartha na tine agus feall, a phóraítear catha agus pian. Tá muid siad atá gan bás. Siad a scrios go léir. Siad a máirseáil ar órga Terra uair amháin níos mó, agus na ligean orthu caitheadh leis an ríchathaoir ar an talamh. Tá muid an Stoirm a fáinleoga shaol. Tá muid ar an Draugar."

- The text in Tunnel Tongue that is inscribed upon the gates of the Great Barracks of Lupercal's Folly

A savage Warband of Chaos Space Marines that has marauded and pillaged the Segmentum Ultima since the Horus Heresy, the Storm Draugar are brutes and madmen of such evil and infamy that their dark names are certain to echo within the annals of history for eons to come. They inhabit the dark region of space known as the River of Exiles, within the tumultuous Exile Sector.

Led by the Chaos Lord Malak Blackspawn, his sorcerer brother, Ingar Blackspawn, and their vile cadre of lieutenants, the Storm Druagar have been fighting the Long War against all challengers, from the Imperium to their fellow Traitors, for over ten thousand years.

The Storm Draugar are mostly made up of a a crass menagerie of Chaos Marines from various backgrounds and paths. Some are members of the old legions, having defected with the Blackspawn Brothers during the Horus Heresy nearly ten millennia ago. Others have arrived from more recent Chapters, or were created from the Flesh Pits by the Warbands twisted Apothecarion.

As such, the Storm Draugar are a band of butchers and vile blooded murderers, without any of the faux honor or pomp of the Legions and devoid of mad fanaticism that drives the legions of old or the younger Warbands of the modern era. Theirs is a savagery for savageries sake, a bestial bloodlust that permeates their very souls by wearing the icon of the Storm Draugar.

Fearsome to a fault, the Storm Draugar are noted for a tenacity that is terror inducing, known to desperately battle to the bitter end if given a proper battle against their foes. Only retreating when a better killing ground presents itself or no victory whatsoever can be won.

The Storm Draugar hold to their own cult, known as the Storm Cult. The Storm Cult professes that the Chaos Gods are but elements of the Warp itself, which is a conscious being. The Warp is the all powerful creator of all, but is a being of such power and majesty that no mortal, man nor Astartes, can understand it's glory. Thus the Dark Gods are but personifications, crudely rendered so that man may understand and pay homage to the Warp itself through the Chaos Gods. Thus, the Storm Draugar see the pursuit of a single God's favor as unambitious, for only the truly powerful and devoted treat with the full might of the Warp itself.

Thus the Storm Draugar are Kings of the River, the thrice damned traitors of traitors who lord over the River of Exiles, striking dread into the hearts of both loyalists swine and fellow traitors in equal measure.

The Blackspawn Brothers
Malak and Ingar Blackspawn began as nothing more but human trash, born to a whore and left to fend for themselves when she abandoned them at the ages of four and six respectively. The duo depended on no one else but one another their whole lives, Malak being the older and stronger of the pair, and Ingar being considerably smarter and later manifesting psychic powers which played no small hand in their survival in the desolate tunnels and catacombs. Together they eventually became well known as a pair of deadly bandits in the black pits of dying Cthonia, in spite of their young ages.

When the Emperor arrived on their barren world, the Blackspawns were rounded up with much of the rest of Cthonia's youth to be recruited into the Luna Wolves Space Marine Legion. Though adapting to the regimented lifestyle of the Legion was not easy on Malak, and Ingar had to strive to keep his growing powers under control, the two would become legendary warriors within the XVI Legion.

Great Crusades
The Blackspawn brothers earned great renown for their deeds in the name of the Emperor and Legion. Tales of the duos feats became the stuff of legend amongst the Legionaries, and the brothers would earn quite the following amongst their fellow Luna Wolves and even the admiration of some of the cousins in the other Legions. The daring duo were at the forefront of the most brutal battles the Luna Wolves, Malak slaying countless foes with his massive Relic Blade, Vanquisher, and Ingar felling even the mightiest enemies with his arcane powers and Xenotech Force Sword, Nirvana. Eventually they were promoted to the glorious First Company and found themselves fighting alongside their honored Primarch. Malak was promoted to the prestigious ranks of the Justaerin, while Ingar found a place of high regard amongst the ranks of the Legions Librarium. However, unlike many Luna Wolves, the Blackspawn brothers never saw Horus as their father, nor their fellow legionaries as bothers. They had not lost their vicious edge, even in the indoctrination. In the end, behind all of the hails to the Emperor, the Blackspawn brothers were still bound together by their own shared blood. And so, when the Warmaster turned to heresy, there was no doubt what the brothers course of action was. To oppose their genefather was needless suicide, but to face their former cousins on the field of war? That was a situation in which the pair could prosper. Malak finally getting to test his might against truly worthy foes, and Ingar prepared to bring sorcerous death to his former allies in order to maintain his position of influence within the Legion.

Horus Heresy
The Brothers fought under the Warmasters banner, gaining renown across the Traitor Legions for their foul exploits, until the horrific battles on Istvaan III and V. After the pyres of loyalist bodies were lit and Horus proclaimed that nothing could stop the Traitor Legions, Ingar was suddenly assailed with extremely vivid visions of Horus' downfall and the subsequent Scouring. He forsaw that he and his brother would not survive, perishing upon the Vengeful Spirit at the hands of none other than Sanguinius himself. Rather than warn the Warmaster of these visions, Ingar instead decided that now was time for him and his brother to take their leave of the Legions.

Such a choice could have been thought of as madness, which Malak certainly considered when his brother first told him of what he forsaw. Malak was certainly against betraying the Heresy, for abandoning the Legions was not only tantamount to suicide, but would also cast great shame upon the duos names for all time. Doubtless the Blackspawns would be hunted for all eternity by those they previously held as brothers, regardless of the outcome of the Horus Heresy.

But Ingar was convinced of his visions, death and ruin awaited the Legions, and only the mad would stay this course. Malak was eventually convinced, but only after days of council and coaxing. Ingar prophesied that a Warp Storm, which he called the River of Exiles, would provide the Warband with shelter. But a great deal of resources would be needed, ships, weapons, and men. Thus the Blackspawn brothers began their preparations, gathering as many supporters and vessels as they could.

Trying to be discrete, the pair scoured the traitor forces for disgruntled individuals, those who may have their own treacherous thoughts and ambitions. These individuals were difficult to find, as the purge of Istvaan III cleared out a good deal of those who would abandon their Legions. But the purges did not eliminate all of the over ambitious, nor the currently disgruntled. And with the Blackspawn brothers reputations, they managed to gather up a considerable group of supporters from across the Legions, cutthroats and power mongers, or those who simply wished to remove themselves from this fratricidal conflict. This did not go unnoticed by the Warmaster however, and as the Blackspawns and their sizable group of supporters prepared for their discrete departure, they were attacked by forces of the Sons of Horus. Most who chose to follow the Blackspawns died in brutal ship to ship combat, and in the end, only the Blackspawns themselves and a handful of their supporters managed to escape aboard a single ship, the Vengance-Class Grand Cruiser known only as The Storm.

The Maelstrom
Though few, the band of surviving Legionaries and their traitor Imperial Army forces managed to limp their way as far as the Maelstrom. Looking upon this rift, the Blackspawn brothers saw an opportunity. The Storm dove deep into the Maelstrom, assaulting the various primitive pirate empires and bands, absorbing them into their ranks.

The pitched battles here in the Maelstrom would influence the nascent Storm Draugar's tactics, making them harsh and ruthless in the extreme, showing no fear and giving no quarter against any foe. Many a time the Storm Draugar were outnumbered, and even outmatched by the vile empires of lost and damned within the Maelstrom. But they fought though it, as a pack of starving wolves, desperation and lust for power driving them along.

By the time the Blackspawn brothers and their followers exited the Maelstrom, they had managed to gather up a rag tag fleet of pirates and raiders, savages and madmen. These were men who had known nothing of the galaxy outside of the Maelstrom, they who were lost and damned. These minions and the time in the Maelstrom only quickend the corruption of the Blackspawn brothers and their crewmen, ensuring that they would embrace Chaos fully, one way or another.

Cold Harbor
The Blackspawn brothers and their entourage soon found themselves staring into one of the largest Warp Storms in the galaxy... The River of Exiles. Ingar's visions told him that within that hellish tear in reality, they would find their salvation. The Storm navigated through the River of Exiles unmolested save for a few foolish pirate vessels that thought they could overtake the massive Cruiser and its minor fleet. Eventually the Blackspawn brothers and their followers came across an astounding relic from and unknown time... a great star fortress, marred by time and the machinations of daemons. As the makeshift band of traitors disembarked, they found that, though twisted by the Warp and ravaged by the toll of time, the mighty fortress was still in working order.

The Star Fort would be christened, Lupercal's Folly, in "honor" of the Warmaster who by this time had just begun his invasion of Terra. The Blackspawns forces began scouting out the massive vessel and discovered a wealth manufacturing systems, along with grand armories and vehicle bays. Though empty then, they seemed to beg to be filled with arms and armor. However, the Warbands numbers were pitifully few, and with only a handful of vessels to their name, the band that would become the Storm Draugar were in no position to control the bulk of their fortress. For now at least, they had survived.

Rising Storm
With Lupercal's Folly secured, the Storm Draugar began to hunt for bodies to supply them with the forces they needed to dominate the stars. At this time, the Scouring had just commenced, and much of the River of Exiles, though dangerous, was uninhabited by any major powers. The Storm Draugar, numbering only a bare forty Astartes, a few hundred former Imperial Army soldiers, and a scant thousand of pirates, began their campaign of terror. They struck out against various worlds, kidnapping populations and raiding tainted civilizations, on the constant lookout for resources to grow their ranks. It was a long and arduous campaign, but with the Blackspawn brothers at the helm, it was not an impossible task. By the time the first elements of the tattered traitor legions entered the River of Exiles, hunted by the Imperium, the Storm Draugar had grown significantly, their Warband commanding a fledgling fleet of warships, several hundred planetary holdings, and well over five hundred Astartes, not to mention a considerable army of thousands of mortal traitors and various daemonic entities.

It was during this period that the Storm Draugar gained their namesake. The fearful little fiefdoms of the River of Exiles were terrified by the Blackspawn brothers and their small but tenacious band of followers. Their flagship, The Storm, became an icon of terror amongst the charnel lords an xenos overlords of the realm, and collectively they named these hulking super warriors, Draugar. Deathless warriors with skin of steel and souls of flame, chosen by the Dark Gods to wreak havoc and chaos across the stars. Malak was fond of the reputation, and thus christened the Warband accordingly. By the time their fellow traitors arrived, they faced, not a small band of cowards who had fled the Heresy at its highest point, but the nightmarish force of marauders known only as the Storm Draugar.

The War of True Divinity
The Storm Draugar had readied themselves for the arrival of the brothers they had abandoned, though the first bands of Legionaries to arrive in the River of Exiles were often too few or disorganized to withstand the might of the Storm Draugar. Many were either slain or forced to anoint their armor in the colors of the Storm Draugar.

But of these traitors, none were as mighty as the Host of Nethiraus Black. A vast Warband of the Word Bearers, three thousand Legionaries strong. They stormed into the River of Exiles, taking vast swaths of territory and easily destroying or converting any of their fellow traitors that dared stand in their way. The Host of Nethruias had been given a holy mission at the behest of Lorgar himself, to capture and secure this holy warp storm, so that it would act as a bastion of faith from which to strike out against the slaves of the False Emperor. But when the Storm Draugar came to their attention, the Host of Nethruias immediately shifted their focus. How did these cowards and deserters dare to fester in this holy place? Their mere existence was an affront to the Dark Gods. It was decided then, that the Sons of the Urizen would personally teach the Blackspawn brothers the folly of their irreverent and faithless ways.

Marshaling their finest Legionaries, three Dark Apostles, Uldan the Spear, Lo'Char the Beast, and Nethruias the Black assaulted Lupercal's Folly, throwing all the Blackspawns had worked for into serious jeopardy. With ease the Word Bearers utterly annihilated the worlds that payed allegiance to the Storm Draugar, and swept aside their fleets like dust in a hurricane. Their populations were put to the sword and torch in honor of the Dark Gods, and the few Storm Draugar that mustered to defend them were but a bump in the road to victory.

Soon time came to besiege Lupercal's Folly itself, and Nethruias the Black declared the Storm Draugar all but finished. But the most faithful of the Dark Gods had seriously underestimated the tenacity of this band of traitors, and the arsenal of their fortress. A grave battle took place amdist the swirling chaos of the River of Exiles as eldritch blasts and great macrocannon fire tore into the Word Bearers fleet, while the fleet responded in kind with withering barrages. The Storm Draugar bled dry their reserve fleets of butchers and madmen, while the Word Bearers prepared to board.

The great assault via thousands of Dreadclaws, each packed full of Legionaries, daemons, and even cultist cannon fodder commenced with all due haste. As the Word Bearer's ranks poured into Lupercal's Folly, the Storm Draugar struck back with all their might. Led personally by the Blackspawn brothers and their lieutenants, the fellow Son of Horus Brother Rasputin and the Iron Warrior known only as Murdok, the Storm Draugar's battered cultist and Chaos Marines fought with all the savagery of a caged animal. They tore into the first boarding parties, ripping them asunder in vicious counterattacks and ambushes. But soon the sheer weight of numbers and zealous fury of the Word Bearers began to tear the Storm Draugar down. For every Legionary that fell, three more would rise. For every cultist slain, a horde poured in from the walls. For every daemon banished, several more would materialize before the beleaguered Storm Draugar.

Brother Rasputin and his men found themselves trapped at the front, fighting for their lives against the main bulk of the invaders within the hab blocks and corridors of the center of the fortress. Meanwhile Murdok and his Iron Warriors hastened the mobilization of their havoc squads and fortified positions both at and behind the front lines, as well as dispatching a great squad of Legionaries alongside his cadre of Warpsmiths into the depths of Lupercal's Folly for reasons then known only to Murdok himself. All the while the Blackspawn brothers rallied all the men they could behind the lines, readying for a great push forward to break the Word Bearer advance.

It was only when nearly half of Lupercal's Folly was firmly within their grasp that the trio of Dark Apostles took to the field themselves. Uldan the Spear, once a chosen champion of Lorgar, strode forth clad in his crimson Cataphractii Terminator Armor and great Maul in his claws. Then came Lo'Char the Beast, whose body was so covered in the skulls of fallen loyalists that the Indomitus Terminator Armor beneath it was almost impossible to see, in his bloodstained hands he held aloft his Combi Bolter and Daemon Axe, roaring litanies of blood and hate. But finally, the most vile and cunning of them all stepped free from the Dread Claw, flanked by his fanatic cultist honor guard, Nethruias the Black. Nethruias was Terran by blood, but a devout follower of Lorgars teachings through and through. During the Horus Heresy, he had been at the fore of thousands of sadistic blood sacraments and debauched rituals, and to this day many of the methods used by Chaos Cults around the galaxy to summon forth and commune with the powers of the Warp have their roots in those early rituals. He was a master of the occult, and as such, was rewarded greatly by the Dark Gods with vile mutations. His right hand was a great three fingered claw, constantly oozing with burning ichor and venom. And he held aloft in his left the dreaded terror weapon known only as The Fleshblade, a sword of writhing flesh and eyes, constantly thirsting for the blood and souls of the strong and innocent. His face was a patchwork of mutated tissue and hideous holy markings of the Dark Gods, and when he spoke it was said that one would hear four voices as opposed to one. Nethruias the Black looked upon Lupercal's Folly as his final gift from the Chaos Gods, his right as their holy champion. All he need do is defeat these faithless worms, who had abandoned their righteous crusade against the Emperor. But such a task would not be an easy one.

Even as the invaders surrounded them, the Storm Draugar readied themselves for one final push, a great force was rallying under the Blackspawn brothers themselves deep within the heart of ''Lupercal's Folly. ''When the counter charge was made ready, the Brothers sallied forth, flanked by their finest Legionaries and teaming ranks of cultists. The charge beat back the Word Bearers lines, narrowly saving Brother Rasputin and his men, who threw themselves into the charge with all the energy their exhausted frames could muster. At the very front of this glorious charge was Malak Blackspawn himself, thundering through the choked streets, cutting down scores of Legionaries and daemons alongside his honor guard, the Terminator armored Sciatha Fuath. Such was the relentless fury of the Storm Draugar, that the Word Bearers found themselves all but shattered, the smaller force ripping deep holes into their formations.

Such was Malak's fury and might that he soon lost sight of his bodyguard, cutting so deep into the enemies lines that he was soon lost amongst their mangled bodies. Ingar continued to lead the charge alongside Brother Rasputin and the Sciatha Fuath, but was greatly distressed by his brothers disappearance. Meanwhile, Murdok followed close behind the advance with his havocs and mechanized squads, ensuring that no Word Bearer survived behind the lines and pushing his Warpsmiths to activate his secret weapon.

Meanwhile, the Dark Apostles watched as their forces were routed. Lo'Char was enraged, slaying several of his own fleeing Legionaries until their ranks returned to the front. Meanwhile Uldan confided his fears with Nethruias that the losses the Warband was sustaining was far and beyond what was expected. Nethruias chided Uldan for lacking in faith, and to trust in their numbers and the favor of the Dark Gods. It was at that moment that a hulking figure came smashing into their makeshift command station, slaughtering their veteran honor guard. It was the Greatest of Draugar Lords himself, Malak Blackspawn. He had fought his way through the Word Bearer's lines in the confusion, and now stood before the three Apostles, bellowing challenge. Lo'Char was first to oblige, lunging forth with axe raised and combi-bolter blazing. Malak responded in kind, meeting the Beast with volkite fire and great blade. But as Malak met his first foe, Uldan joined the battle, bringing his great Maul to bear.

The titanic battle between these two champions of Chaos and the Great Draugar Lord raged through the encampment, sewing utter chaos in its wake. Lo'Char and Uldan were indeed mighty warriors, but Malak Blackspawn fought with a savagery and iron will the likes of which is rarely seen in a mortal being. Lo'Char suffered the loss of his right eye by Malak's fist, and Uldan had been run through by Vanquisher, his gaping wound struggling to clot as he carried on. But Malak was far from unscathed, his body battered and bones broken, he fought on through sheer will and rage alone. It was only when Nethruias chose to enter the fray did the battle shift. The Dark Apostle struck first from behind with his great claw, rending open Malak's left flank, flooding the gash with burning ichor and venom. Malak lashed out at his opponent, Vanquisher screaming like a banshee as it roared through the air at Nethruias. But the Dark Apostle was more than ready for Malaks assault, and parried the strike with his daemon weapon with ease, he then plunged the Fleshblade deep into his foe, twisting it as its fangs and tendrils ripped into Malak's body.

With a roar of agony, Malak Blackspawn fell to his knees before Nethruias the Black. With the Fleshblade draining his very soul, the mighty Malak was sapped of all strength as his opponent stood triumphant, twisting the cruel fleshmetal blade within his burning wound. Nethruias gloated in his victory, reveling in the infidels pain and slow, agonizing death. As he felt the Draugar Lord's life wane, Nethruias leaned in close, whispering his final, mocking words to the once mighty Back Breaker of the Luna Wolves.

"My blade will drink deep of your brother's blood next, Whoreson."

With these words, a fire lit itself deep within Malak's twisted soul, one final gasp of rage gave him the power of ten Astartes. With a roar of fury that sounded more daemon than man, Malak Blackspawn delivered a concussive headbutt to Nethruias, shattering his already hideous face. He then hefted his great blade, slicing the Dark Apostles mutant arm off and then driving the blade down to the hilt through his neck. Malak used Vanquisher as a means to stand as he then grabbed Nethruias by the jaw, and ripped it clean from his skull. Nethruias' garbled shrieks of agony resounded through Lupercal's Folly as Malak stabbed his foe in the eyes with the remains of his lower jaw until Uldan brought his Maul to bear across the Draugar Lord's back, rendering him unconscious. The whole scene had happened within the span of bear seconds, and the two Apostles had only a few more to fully realize what had happened before Ingar, flanked by the Sciatha Fuath, came charging through the maelstrom of chaos that had been sewn in the battle. Uldan and Lo'Char were flanked by the Legionaries and cultists that had gathered following the battle, and sacrificed them in order to buy the pair time to retreat with their gravely wounded master. Likewise, Ingar secured his brother's unconscious form, and began to pull back.

Nethruias the Black would later die of his wounds within the Apothecary's makeshift field hospital, his final words being enfeebled threats to his lieutenants that they shall not usurp his rightful command. But such words rang hollow as the once mighty Nethruias finally succumbed to his grievous wounds. This left Lo'Char and Uldan in direct command of the remains of the Word Bearers forces.

Meanwhile, Murdok's Warpsmiths made their breakthrough. All over Lupercal's Folly, ancient defense turrets and automated attack drones awoke for the first time in untold eons. With his command, these systems turned their arcane weapons upon the Word Bearers, stopping their advance dead and wreaking havoc within their own lines. Thusly supported, the Storm Draugar forced a gap between the two armies, giving them a much needed respite to reorganize their forces while the invaders struggled to secure their beach head.

As the Draugar licked their wounds, word came from the front. The Blackspawn brothers and their bodyguards were nowhere to be seen, and were believed to have fallen in the great counterattack. While Brother Rasputin was dubious as to the claim, Murdok took this as the opportunity he had been waiting for. Murdok rallied the Storm Draugar, taking the mantel of commander for himself. He declared the Blackspawn brothers dead, and claimed himself as their rightful successor. He legitimized his claim to power with the revelation that he, and he alone, commanded the newly activated automated systems of ''Lupercal's Folly. ''To oppose him was to oppose the vast array of killing machines now at his beck and call. And so Murdok, the simple Iron Warrior, became Lord Murdok, Iron Lord of the Storm Draugar.

However, while the Storm Draugar had been endowed with new, vengeful purpose, the Word Bearers were slowly devolving into rabble. Uldan and Lo'Char bickered incessantly, and eventually gave out conflicting orders, with Lo'Char calling for another great charge that would overrun the Storm Draugar and their new emplacements, and Uldan favoring retreat. Met with such indecisive and confusing commands, the Word Bearers forces fell into anarchy, with those loyal to Uldan pulling back to the Dread Claws, and Lo'Char's men running haphazardly to their deaths. Eventually, Lo'Char stood alone, most of those loyal to him dead and his ally having abandoned him and taken the fleet. But the Beast fought to the bitter end, bleeding dry the last of his cultists and what few mad Legionaries still followed him. In the end Lo'Char would be struck down by the Iron Lord, shot dead like a dog in the streets of ''Lupercal's Folly. ''His body was impaled upon the spires of the Dubh Dún with the rest of his men. To this very day his body still rests upon that grave spike, axe still clutched in his skeletal hand, held there by some unnatural force.

To this day what remains of Nethruias' Warband still wages war upon the Storm Draugar. They are known now as the Everchosen, and their endless war constantly ravages the River of Exiles. The Everchosen remain grievously shamed, for their failure at the Siege of Lupercal's Folly saw them condemned by the Dark Council, excomunicated from the holy brotherhood of the Word Bearers until they redeem themselves''. ''But their faith in the Dark Gods keeps the fires of their zeal burning bright, and their hunger for redemption makes them all the more bold in their endless war for conquest. Under the ruthless leadership of Uldan the Spear, now known as Uldan the Everchosen, they have become a force to be reckoned with.

The Reign of the Iron Lord
Lord Murdok would rule for four-hundred years, his influence and power over Lupercal's Folly growing exponentially. With the arrival of Hurlok Zahz, the Iron Lord's many Warpsmiths began to truly unlock the secrets of ''Lupercal's Folly. ''Soon the run down vessel was alive again with activity and the fires of industry burned within her breast. Lord Murdok focused intently rebuilding Lupercal's Folly and the Storm Draugar in his image, directing all resources to the construction of weapons, vehicles, and recruitment of new Chaos Marines. It was to this end that his sizable cabal of former Iron Warriors Warpsmiths and mad Hereteks, headed by the genius Hurlok Zahz, toiled ceaselessly. Lupercal's Folly became alive once more, with teaming ranks of mortals working tirelessly, driving the engines of industry and commerce that grew the once barren fortress into a sprawling world within its own right. With all this wealth and influence, the Storm Draugar eventually redoubled their losses from the siege, and were ready to pillage the stars once again.

But all was not well within the Storm Draugar, for there had long been murmurs of dissent, and now, at the end of the period of rebuilding, many were whispering of open rebellion. For while Murdok was an exceptional administrator and commander, he was also an arrogant, self righteous elitist. His behavior had made him very few in the way of allies within the Draugars command structure, with most of the other Draugar Lords that had sprung up during his rule resenting the weight of his command. Lord Murdok often viewed himself and his men as far and above the rest of the Draugars ranks, and made only a token effort to hide it. He made certain that the Chaos Marines that served within his Storm were of the purest Iron Warriors gene-seed, and ensured that they be armed with the finest equipment and luxuries available. He would regularly spurn other Draugar Lords and made certain to marginalize their achievements whenever compared to his own. His ego had even begun to spread disgruntlement amongst the beginnings of what would become the Firi Arsa, the cabal of Warpsmiths, Sorcerers, and Hereteks that maintained Lord Murdoks technological stranglehold over Lupercal's Folly.

Chief amongst these dissenters was the old Luna Wolf, Brother Rasputin. Being well over several hundred years Lord Murdoks senior and still fanatically loyal to the Blackspawn brothers, Rasputin saw Lord Murdoks rule as an affront to what the Blackspawns had created. The Storm Draugar were a brotherhood of the wronged in a way, of those cast out and disdained by the Legions. They were men with true vengeance and hate in their hearts, and this bonded them together as battle brothers. Murdok was a pompous fool, still clinging to the honor and pomp of the Legions, seeking to claim the recognition that he felt robbed of when he served within the Iron Warriors. He cared only for his own status and nothing else, seeing all the progress made under his rule as nothing more but an extension of his own ego. A conformation of his so called greatness. Brother Rasputin would sooner see the Iron Lord dead then let his pathetic self aggrandizement split the Storm Draugar into civil war. Slowly, a plot was formed, conspirators gathered, and a plan set into motion. They called themselves the Brotherhood of Folly, and they acted in secret to sabotage the Iron Lords reign and eventually cast him and his supporters down into the darkest depths of Lupercal's Folly. At their head was Brother Rasputin, an old wolf, who still had teeth yet to bare.

The Mournscream Uprisings
In late M34, the native creatures of Lupercal's Folly, the savage Mournscreams, rose up in a semi-organized rebellion. The initial skirmishes were small, localized battles between patrolling cultist and traitor guard forces and Warbands of Mournscream warriors, but the conflict quickly spiraled into a full blown war after the Massacre of Block 87. The Massacre was a shocking turn of events, an entire brigade of disciplined traitor guard, utterly butchered in an organized ambush. It was then that the Iron Lord stepped in, deploying several squads of Chaos Marines to put down and ultimately exterminate the Mournscreams tribes. With the combined might of the Storm Draugar and their mortal servants, the Mournscream tribes were utterly devastated in several brutal battles in the lower levels of Lupercal's Folly.

However, before the final feral tribes of Mournscreams could be exterminated, Lord Murdok requested that several specimens be captured and examined by members of the Firi Arsa for potential use as war beasts. Recent events having demonstrated the capability of the primitive Mournscream warriors, Lord Murdok decreed that the creatures were to be harnessed by the Warband as skirmishers and assassins. The remaining tribes were left to their foul pits deep within the most inhospitable regions of Lupercal's Folly, while teaming hordes of the beasts were bred in the Flesh Pits to serve the Storm Draugar.

The End of the Reign of Iron
The grand conspiracy to overthrow Lord Murdok took many years to prepare, and the Brotherhood of Folly treated utter disaster with every step. The scope of conspirators transcended the ranks of just the Storm Draugar themselves, as there were even lowly slaves involved in its undertaking at the highest levels. But none save Brother Rasputin himself knew the full plan, only the specific role they had in it.

However, the Iron Lord had grown increasingly paranoid, having constructed the Gargoyle Daemon Engine to deter would-be assassins and ensuring his bodyguard, known as the Dhorn Iarann (Iron Fists in Cthonian) were always armed to the teeth. He had already had several ranking members of the Warband assassinated or imprisoned within his dungeon, and was aware of his growing number of enemies and malcontents.

The Brotherhood of Folly acted with the utmost secrecy, and soon their plot was ready. Utilizing their agents within the Firi Arsa, the Brotherhood of Folly disabled the ancient turrets and machines of war that covered the whole of ''Lupercal's Folly. ''Two centuries of planning suddenly sprung forth as the ancient machines went offline

Gene-Seed
Storm Draugar Gene-Seed has long since been a quagmire of mixed and mutated genes, prone to bestial mutations and various mental and behavioral disorders. Due to the bastard nature of the seed, Storm Draugar are naturally animalistic and savage, suffering from various carnal lusts and base hungers. Many Storm Draugar are known to particularly enjoy the taste of human flesh. Of course, this is only seen in newer members, and in spite of what many think, Storm Draugar gene-seed is actually surprisingly stable given the eons much of it has spent bathed in Warp energy. This is due to the amazing archotechnology and blasphemous processes utilized by the Firi Arsa, the Storm Draugar's vile cult of mad scientists and sorcerers, dedicated to strange biotechnology and genetic manipulation. Thus, while inherently unstable and heavily flawed, Storm Draugar gene-seed should, by all rights, be untenable with the corruption and mixing it has experienced. Instead, the younger Storm Draugar, the Fuil Óga, are notably stronger, faster, and more ferocious than any loyalist borne of pure seed.

However, due to the origins of the first Storm Draugar, the Warband has access to rare, painstakingly preserved examples of pure gene-seed not found outside of the great gene-vaults of Mars. Examples of pre-corruption Death Guard, Emperor's Children, and Luna Wolves gene-seed are some of the most jealously guarded treasures the Storm Draugar have access to, only utilizing this rare seed on particularly promising recruits.

Weapons/Technology
The Storm Draugar have access to powerful weapons thanks in no small part to their Star Fortress, whose great forges make possible the production of such technology. As such most of the Warband is equipped with basic Imperial technology and a few examples of unique wargear. The mighty and many forges of Lupercal's Folly can produce anything from a great Daemon Engine to the humble lasgun. The Storm Draugar also have access to advanced biotechnology, constructed by the deranged cult of scientists and sorcerers, the Firi Arsa. As such the Warband can call on thousands of vat grown recruits from these infamous gene labs, known infamously as the Flesh Pits. However, the Firi Arsa cannot make true Space Marines from process of the Flesh Pits, simply gene conditioned humans. Thus any potential Storm Draugar must be trained and Gene-Seeded rather than created. (though the genetically enhanced recruits are more likely to survive the trials to become a Chaos Marine, thus the Warbands numbers have swelled) And any vat grown individual that is not fit to be a Chaos Marine is then pressed into the elite force known as the Flesh Pit Janissaries, who form the upper echelon of the Storm Draugars mortal forces.

The few examples of rare wargear seen by Imperial forces are listed as thus:

Relic Sonic Blasters- Strange and elegant weapons supposedly forged eons before the Imperium and found now in the hands of the chosen champions of the Fourteenth Storm, lead by the infamous Draugar Lord Onas Krel. These weapons are designed to look more akin to an instrument, complete with strings and tuners. But these are no mere musical apparatuses, these are weapons forged from the blackest pits of the Warp itself. It is said that the strings are actually forged from the souls of the most fair mortal singers, and that with each pluck of the string their wails of agony and torment convalesce into a blast of soul rending sonic power. These Relic Blasters are rare as they are deadly, with only six known to exist in the entirety of the galaxy. Of these six, four are in the hands of Onas and his trio of honor guard.

Rending Blades- More common but nonetheless coveted weapons amongst the rank and file of the Storm Draugar's cultists, the Rending Blade is a serrated mono-edged blade known for its grizzly affect on flesh and bone. It's serrated edges rip chunks of flesh from the body and slash through bone and armor. Thanks to its mono-edge, it rarely becomes bone-stuck in spite of its serrated design. This makes it a reliable and savage weapon, capable of cutting down hordes of foes with cleave after cleave.

Bastard Bolter- Also known as a Bolt Carbine or Sawn-Off Bolter, the Bastard Bolter was designed for the Storm Draugar's elite Janissaries, to provide these vat grown soldiers with weapons comparable to the Draugar's own. However, the Bastard Bolter does not provide exactly the same amount of killing power as a standard Bolter scaled to a Space Marines superhuman strength and size, though one would see little difference in a wound caused by either.

The Bastard Bolter has found its way into the hands of more than just the Janissaries however, it has become very popular with both the Chaos Marines themselves and the Traitor Guardsmen. That is not even mentioning the Cultists, who will readily kill one another for a single Bastard Bolter.

While the weapon suffers due to its reduced range, clips size, and power it makes up for this with increased reliability and maneuverability. It is also light and short barreled enough for a Chaos Marine to fire this weapon one handed with ease, thus making it a popular sidearm when compared to the ubiquitous bolt pistol.

Fury Boltguns- The expert Warpsmiths and Scorcerers of Lupercal's Folly create a great deal of deamonic weapons and armors, but few are as prolific as the Fury Boltgun. The Fury is considered by the Storm Draugar to be the ideal daemon component in the creation of possessed wargear. For the Fury is much weaker and less resistant than the average lesser daemon. Thus, while the resultant weapon may not be as potent as another, more traditional daemon weapon, it is most certainly more manageable and reliable.

The name Fury Boltgun covers a wide range of bolter type weapons, from pistols to Heavy Bolters and everything in-between. Fury Boltgun rounds have a tendency to blaze with unnatural flame and occasionally seek out their targets, as well as produce a soul wrenching roar as they fly through the air towards their unfortunate targets.

Fury Blades- The term Fury Blade covers a wide range of edged melee weapons, from knives and daggers to great swords and halberds. Such weapons are possessed by a Fury daemon, which makes them less powerful than a blade possessed by a daemon of the four Dark Gods, but also results in a much more obedient weapon. Fury Blades burn with an unnatural flame or crackle with witch-lighting, and have been known to scream and roar with fury and delight as they slice through their victims. They can easily carve through power armor, and have been known to warn their masters of incoming enemies with their screeches for blood and battle.

Doom Mauls- Flaming Fury-possessed bludgeons, Doom Mauls are a common form of daemon possessed weapon amongst the aspiring Champions and Chosen of the Storm Draugar. These flaming mauls come in various shapes and sizes, but all are brutal weapons borne of an otherworldly might that is both terror inducing and awe inspiring. While certainly not as potent as weapons possessed by other, stronger daemons, Doom Mauls are also much less capricious and relatively easy for a high ranking Storm Draugar to secure.

Doom Mauls are known to cause a concussive blast of flaming warpfire upon impact with a target, and will roar with blood hungry rage as it swings through the air. Such weapons are also known to occasionally fire bolts of flame or lighting, rending at the targets flesh and soul.

Lupercal-Pattern Chainhammer: A brutish and savage weapon favored by the Warbands strongest and most fearsome Champions, the Lupercal-Pattern Chainhammer is a tool of wanton murder and destruction. Differing from standard models in that the pommel is outfitted with a brutal power spike and the particularly thick teeth of the saw, the Lupercal-Pattern Chainhammer is particularly deadly against armored targets.

Dread Plate- A rarer form of possessed wargear amongst the Storm Draugar, usually worn by particularly reverent or fanatic Champions and Aspiring Champions, the Dread Plate is a form of possessed Power Armor that has been imbued with one or several Furies. Dread Plate is essentially identical to normal Chaos Marine power armor in most respects, save for a few "enhancements" depending on the nature of the daemons within. As Furies change color and behavior depending on which Chaos God is currently at the peak of its power, so too will the armor be imbued with certain properties on its creation.

Additionally, if the armor is forged at a time of relative balance between the great four, which is a rare event indeed, the Dread Plate will be at its most potent. It will inspire fear and awe in all who look upon it, grant the user great speed and strength, and be both extremely durable and resistant to psychic assaults.

Lupercalian Cyber Mastiffs (Pit Devils)- A vicious and savage breed of war hound utilized by the Storm Draugar to savage the enemies ranks and run down retreating infantry, the Lupcercalian Cyber Mastiff, or Pit Devils as they are known by the Draugar and residents of Lupercal's Folly, are war beasts of a deadly caliber. Originally bred and equipped for the savage gladiatorial arenas of Lupercal's Folly, including the infamous Proving Grounds, it is a small wonder that the Pit Devils would find a place on the battlefields of the 41st Millennium. Armed with brutal rending claws, melta cutters, and adamantium jaws studded with diamond hard teeth, a single Lupercalian Cyber Mastiff is a fearsome foe. In a pack, they are a terror rivaled only by their masters.

Pit Devils are built for speed and aggression, being of a slim build. Their bionics are crafted with care to ensure that they do not hinder the beasts natural speed and agility, while augmenting their power and aggression tenfold. Expert hunters, there are few things that can escape a pack of Pit Devils, and even fewer that can withstand their onslaught once they close the distance.

Lupcercalian Cyber Mastiffs are often under the care of a Chaos Marine beastmaster, who tends to his pack well, and often relishes the hunt just as much as they do.

Fiend-Class Raider: A unique Raider-Class vessel utilized only by the Storm Draugar, built solely in the shipyards of Nimrod's Wisdom, the Fiend-Class Raider is a ship dreaded and feared by both loyalist and traitor alike within the depths of the River of Exiles and beyond.

Noted for it's sheer speed and potency of its armament, the Fiend-Class Raider is essentially a "torpedo boat", it's slim hold filled with deadly Melta Torpedoes for utterly savaging large capital ships and Boarding Torpedoes for boarding smaller vessels in piratical actions. En masse, Fiend-Class Raiders can create a solid wall of endless torpedo barrage, relentlessly hammering at the enemy fleet before swiftly pulling away before any retaliatory fire can be leveled against it.

However, the Fiend-Class Raider suffers from the usual pitfalls of it's class, being relatively fragile when compared to the greater Cruisers and Battleships, and lacking much in the way of firepower from its gun batteries. Thus the Fiend-Class Raider is ill-equipped to deal with other Escort-Class vessels, but a nightmare for larger capital ships.

Combat Doctrine
"Strike hard, strike true... and strike deep."

- Mahdiler the Pale, preparing his Bike Squad for battle

The Storms are also known for their relentless assaults and nigh unbreakable moral. This is in part due to the culture of the Warband, cultivated by the Blackspawn brother's own ruthless ways, and also due to the nature of the Storm Draugar. They are renegades amongst renegades, marked men and betrayers of sacred oaths. They know that only death awaits them, one way or another. Thus they are utterly savage, willing to fight so long as even a glimmer of hope remains. They will fight where only the most glorious combat can be had, on open fields or in the choked city streets, this is because every Draugar wishes to die gloriously, to take thousands of his foes with him. Storm Draugar fight with a relentless aggression, only giving ground to relocate to a better killing floor. Thus the Draugar themselves seek out the strongest of the enemies forces, seeking glory in either death against a worthy foe or in bloody victory for the Dark Gods.

An emphasis is placed on armored assaults, either via troop transports or tanks, with squads of daemons and infantry in support of these armored advances. Meanwhile, the Chaos Marines themselves and the mighty Daemon Engines act as a reflexive force, deployed to eliminate areas of high resistance and capture high value locations. The average Storm Draugar assault is a brutal and savage one, like a wave, sweeping away all resistance in a relentless march of blade and bolt. Thus, the Chaos Marine's Rhinos are of paramount importance to the success of their assaults, as they allow the rank and file Chaos Marines to engage these areas of greater resistance. Without the Chaos Marines in tow, the Daemon Engines are left without without vital infantry support, allowing the beasts to be picked off piecemeal by anti-armor units. Without their mechanized forces, the Storm Draugar's sweeping advance stalls greatly, creating gaps and sabotaging their cohesion. Such a stall could very well be the death knell of the Warbands forces on the field of war.

When it comes to battles in the depths of the void, the Storm Draugar strike with ruthless aggression, launching themselves forth with great zeal to obliterate and board the enemies vessels. This is a result of their piratical nature, as much of their fleets ranks are replenished from what they can steal from their enemies. Thus, the Storm Masters are famously aggressive and relentless commanders, pushing their fleets forward in savage displays of blood lust. This does leave them open to clever counterattacks however, and if the foe can withstand the initial onslaught, they can be easily mired in brutal exchanges.

Organization
The Storm Draugar are organized into various battle fleets spread throughout the Galaxy, each returning to Lupercal's Folly to resupply, these battle fleets are referred to as Storms. A Storm is similar to a Space Marine Company, numbering roughly one hundred Space Marines. However, each Storm also has its own armored and infantry forces comprised of cultists, traitor guardsmen, pirates and Janissaries, allowing Storms to overwhelm the foe with manpower as well as with the elite skill of their Marines. Currently there are fourteen Storms marauding their way throughout the Galaxy.

Most Storms are led by a duo of individuals known as the Storm Master and the Draugar Lord. Storm Masters are in command of the given Storms fleet while the Draugar Lords command the forces on the ground personally. The Storm Masters are always the second in command, only rising to the rank of Draugar Lord when their master is no longer fit to command.

Individuals known as Legates command individual Astartes squads with similar authority as a loyalist Sergeant. Legates are different from the usual Champions in that they are chosen for their leadership and gravitas, as opposed to raw combat skill. This does not make them any less deadly however, as their measured brutality and controlled strength of arms make them ideal forward commanders to their squads. The Chaos Marines of the Storm Draugar are the brutal, mailed fist of the Warband. They strike deep into the heart of the enemy, slaughtering them where they are at their strongest. No walls can hold them back, no trench line can stall their advance. They sweep over the enemy with blade and bolt, leaving nothing alive.

Meanwhile the elite Janissaries are grouped into disciplined regiments known as Companies, each led by a Captain. These units are relatively few in number, usually only a few hundred strong. Therefore, the utilize their elite training and advanced wargear in small unit tactics, acting as a scalpel to the Marines mailed fist and cultists cudgel.

Then there are the Traitor Guardsmen and their pirate counterparts, who are often grouped together due to similarities in armament and function. These men are grouped into large Regiments, armed with run of the mill military grade equipment of quality that varies as much as their level of training. Usually these regiments are led by an individual known as a Lieutenants, and their forces usually consist of a few thousand men at the most.

However, larger Regiments may be led by men with rank equal to an Imperial Colonel. These Generals, and the men they lead, usually come from one of the worlds of the Blackspawn Dominion. These hellish armies of the lost and damned are often the backbone of the Storms, raised from their native hellworlds before the grand march and thirsty for the blood of all who would stand against their masters. They bring with them, not only trained soldiers, but also tanks, aircraft, and all other manner of wargear.

Then there are the cultists, who are, as one would imagine, the most numerous of the Storm Draugars forces. Therefore, they are also the most disposable. Most of these damned souls come from all manner of places. Some were born on Lupercal's Folly, having lived under the boot of the Blackspawns for generations. Others come from all across the River of Exiles, once slaves of other Warbands or populations payed as tax by the Dominion worlds to their Astartes masters. Whatever their histories, the cultists are borne of great zeal and devotion, for the capricious will of the Dark Gods is truly their only hope for survival. Clad in improvised armor and given only the most basic of arms, the cultists rely on their sheer numbers and tenacious resolve to win victory for their cruel overlords. Their numbers are expended with the same (or even less) amount of care than boltshells, and yet they would never dare to stand against their masters. Cultist have no definitive command structure, though in their anarchic numbers do have some form of leadership in the shape of various demagogues and champions who have clawed their way to the top of the heap. Still, these champions are subservient to even the lowest Traitor Guardsman, and is often viewed with contempt by the Janissaries and their Storm Draugar masters.

The Third Storm is the only one that does not leave the Blackspawn Dominion. This is due to the early treachery of its Draugar Lord, Lord Murdok. The Iron Warrior sought to usurp the Blackspawn brothers following their apparent disappearance during the Siege of Lupercal's Folly, believing the duo to be dead. However, when the Blackspawns returned from their sojourn in the depths of Lupercal's Folly he was punished, not with a painful death as Malak would have wished, but instead "rewarded" for his care in the stead of the Blackspawn brothers with the office of Lord of the Garrisons. Now Lord Murdok and his mockingly dubbed "Warmongers" guard Lupercal's Folly and defending the worlds of the Dominion while the other Storms are out seizing glory for the Dark Gods. Lord Murdok sits upon his iron throne, eternally brooding, forever malcontent. He must deal with mundane issues such as policing trade, dealing with upstarts and collecting taxes from the Dominion worlds. Such an insulting station is by far beneath him, but he dares not tread the path of the scheming betrayer, for while no Space Marine fears death, Lord Murdok has grown quite fond of living.

The Storms and their leadership are as follows:

Warband Fleet
The Storm Draugar possess a mighty fleet of both warships and smaller raiding vessles, accumilated over the eons from various vanquished foes and eager converts. Every Storm has its own corrisponding warfleet, commanded by a Storm Master. Though varied in their composition, generally the Warfleets of the Storm Draugar are made up of Heavy Cruisers and smaller Battleships, their fleets made for fast and bloody raids and orbital bombardment. The Storm Draugar tend to seek the killing blow against the enemy fleet whilst minimalizing any and all casualties they may suffer, thus they prefer fast and heavily armed warships, all the better for running down fleeing vessles and striking the deathblow to other warfleets.

The Warfleets of the Storm Draugar and their commanders are as follows:

The Blackspawn Dominion
A cluster of seven planets that are subservient to, or allied with, the Storm Draugar, these planets form the backbone of the Storm Draugar's supply network and are their primary source for recruitment. These planets are also the basis for the Warbands territorial power, and keeps them well defended in the River of Exiles while the Storms are off on crusade. The worlds are as follows: * Deredrum is a protectorate of the Storm Draugar as opposed to a fully subjugated world, and therefore enjoys a great deal of autonomy in terms of self governance. This is due mostly to the great power Lady Barbarossa wields with her nigh innumerable armies and her nearly godlike powers as a psyker. It this current arrangement sees the Lady of Pain contributing a tax in manufactured goods and surplus population to the Storm Draugar in return for a mutually beneficial military alliance and protection under the Storm Draugar's banner. Deredrum also benefits in trade with other Dominion worlds, though nearly half of its armed forces are at the Storm Draugar's beck and call.

** Shear is a trading partner and military ally of the Storm Draugar. The Warband provides the cabals of scheming magi with raw resources from other subservient worlds in exchange for weapons technology and the support of Legio Ferrox.

*** Nimrod's Wisdom is technically a sapient entity in of itself, and negotiated its alliance with the Blackspawn brothers expertly. As it currently stands, Tumult, the A.I. consciousness of Nimrod's Wisdom, produces Escort-class starcraft for the Warbands fleet while turning over any surplus materials from its asteroid mining as part of a "seasonal" tax. For its contribution, the station is given the lofty status of a protectorate, allowing for near total self governance, and given an organic workforce and garrison as a gesture of good faith on the part of Storm Draugar.

Sciatha Fuath
The Sciatha Fuath, which translates from Tunnel Tongue as "Hate Shields", are Malak's personal Honor Guard of elite Terminators. Each one has proven himself worthy of fighting at the side of the Greatest of Draugar Lords. Some are what remains if the infamous Squad Hector, a group of Justaerin Terminators led by Malak during the Great Crusade, the rest are champions both young and old, individuals who have proven their prowess as warriors beyond a shadow of a doubt. These elite warriors are given the best weaponry the Warband can provide, and clad in suits of savage Chaos Terminator Armor. Generally speaking they are armed for melee combat, as their master has little patience for firefights. On the battlefield, the Sciatha Fuath are less bodyguard and more of a screen for their lord, ensuring that none interrupt his fearsome duels with enemy commanders and eliminating the chaff unworthy of his blade.

Roghan Scrios
Elite warriors drawn from all areas of the Warband, the Roghan Scrios ("Chosen Destroyers" or "Selected Killers" in Tunnel Tongue) are the hand picked warriors of their superiors. Usually clad in ancient Chaos Artificer Armor and outfitted with Fury Bolters, Power Claws, Rad Rocket Launchers, and other rare or archotech weapons, Roghan Scrios are nightmarish force for any foe to encounter. Even other Chosen warriors of the Traitor Legions will be weary of doing battle with the Roghan Scrios, for they are of the renegade ranks of the Storm Draugar, prone to unpredictable and ruthless actions. However, the very nature of their rank often leads to internal strife, as each of these veterans aspire to be the greatest in the Warband, and Chaos Marines, regardless of their creed, do not accept others to stand in the way of their goals for long. Internecine rivalries between squads of Roghan Scrios or within said squads can quickly turn into full blown vendettas.

Squads of Roghan Scrios are made up of veterans or champions of such skill and prowess that their very names are more a symbol of rank than any wargear. These Chaos Marines have tread upon countless battlefields and have weathered wars that would break all but the strongest. Many of them have served the Blackspawns since the days of the Horus Heresy and the Scouring, while some have been born deep within the most secret depths of the Flesh Pits, bred to dominate in even the most dire battles.

Roghan Scrios are either the personal honor guard of a given Draugar Lord, where they can go into battle alongside these key individuals, or they are formed into elite assault squads, where their eons of combat experience and superior wargear can spell doom for entire armies.

The Firi Arsa
A mad collection of butchers presumably headed by the mad Warpsmith Hurlok Zahz and the Apothecary Arnot Menhk, the so called "Flesh Cult" or "Ancient Truth" in Tunnel Tongue is a loose confederation of Chaos Apothecaries and biologically minded Warpsmiths. This group of madmen is a result of the great arcane labs that rest within the upper center of Lupercal's Folly coupled with the Storm Draugars willingness to take in such dangerous individuals. As their name would imply, the Firi Arsa's members specialize in forms of biotechnology, from the complex ordeal of Gene-Seeding new Chaos Marines, to treating (or even inducing) mutations brought on by the Warp. This unusually large collection of such like minded individuals means that the Storm Draugar have a surprisingly robust system of medical care for their Chaos Marines.

However, the Cult does not stop at simple biology. Other such scientific and occult endeavors are regularly undertaken, though the focus of many are on the effects of such disciplines upon the physiology of living things. Careful studies on Daemonic Possessions, cultivation of Nurglite plagues, powerful weaponized bionics, and even xenotechnology are all fields of study for these more scholarly champions of the Dark Gods. And even then, the Covens members are also in positions of influence over fields such as weapons production and research, making them adept weaponsmiths and engineers as well as biotechnicians.

It is their ranks that maintain the infamous Flesh Pits, from which a vast array of horrors and abominations are spawned to serve the Warband. A great deal of these creatures are failures, hideous monstrosities and mutant beasts that were likely best kept sealed away in a dank dungeon or thrown into the proving grounds than released upon the enemy, but nonetheless are ideal for sewing terror and discord. Other, successful results go on to either become Chaos Marines, bred and trained to the exacting standards of Hurlok Zahz to serve the Warband, or they become Janissaries, elite infantry that are ideal for battlefield task that are beyond even the ranks of traitor guardsmen, but have need for subtly or force of numbers that Chaos Marines cannot deliver.

Often, members of the Cult are seen on the field of battle, acting as field medics and technical specialists. In their given roles they can be most dangerous, the Apothecaries slaying while keeping their fellow Chaos Marines alive and even using various forms of weaponized chemicals and plagues to support their allies. Meanwhile, the Warpsmiths of the Cult are known to bear the most arcane and occult weapons into battle, dark heresies from lost eras and archotech corrupted by the fell energies of Chaos making mockeries of both physical armor and the armor of faith.

Most members of the Cult wear an identifying mark, a great Cog Eye, which separates them from other individuals within the same fields. It is this symbol that shows cult unity, and their dedication to their cause. Whatever that twisted cause may be.

Flesh Pit Janissaries
Slave warriors grown in the Flesh Pits of Lupercal's Folly, the Janissaries are considered the most favored of the Storm Draugars mortal pawns. Janissaries were all potential candidates for gene-seeding but were found wanting in the preliminary examinations. These individuals are psycho conditioned for total loyalty and fearlessness. Janissaries are considered 'elite' amongst the mortal slaves of the Storm Draugar, and hold rank far above most traitor guardsmen and unfortunate slave levies from other worlds the Draugar dominate. The Draugar themselves see the Janissaries a shining example of all the best qualities of the average human brought to fruition, they are ruthless, fearless, and unquestioningly obedient to their cruel masters whims. Thus they are given a higher level of respect and regarded with some kindness by some Chaos Marines within the Warband, where only spite and disgust is shown to the less impressive slave auxiliaries and mercenary cohorts.

Though created in relative abundance, the ranks of the Janissaries are thinly spread throughout the Warbands ranks, and thus remain a small elite force within the Storms. These Companies are usually only a few hundred men strong, and rely on small unit tactics as opposed to the mass attack formations seen with the more rank and file cultists and renegades. They also enjoy superior wargear, such as carapace armor and specialist equipment. This allows them a great deal of flexibility as a fighting force. Therefore, the Janissaries often fill the rolls of Shock Troops, Death Squads, Bodyguards, and Commando units.

Fuil Óga
"Before you learn of the glory of the battlefield, you must first know the pain of the arena."

- Dengizich Amal, the Lash Master, leading a band of Fuil Óga into the Proving Grounds

Young Chaos Marines who have yet to truly prove themselves as warriors, Fuil Óga, (known as Youngbloods in Low Gothic) are often no older than one hundred years and have only recently tasted combat. However, this does not make them any less of a threat than their more experienced brethren. Before becoming true Chaos Marines, the Fuil Óga must first past the trials of the Proving Grounds, the most brutal and bloody gladiatorial arena of ''Lupercal's Folly. ''This final bout of battle is the end of the crucible of gene-seeding, but not the end of a Fuil Óga's training.

In spite of this vicious selection process Fuil Óga still lack considerably in experience, and unlike Loyalist Scouts, do not get to learn the ways of the battlefield from behind the scope of a Stalker Bolter. As the role of skirmisher and scout is already filled by the elite Janissaries and elements of the Traitor Guard, the Fuil Óga instead serve as hunter-killer squads, support squads, and vanguards for the Storm Draugar. Their young natures and low status tend to make them quite zealous and fiery, eager to prove themselves and steal the glory from their elders. This can make them a liability, as they are known to take risks and brash action in the heat of combat. However, it is this hunger for glory that makes them more malleable than their elder compatriots, and they will readily accept less high profile missions in order to gain status with their superiors.

Fuil Óga are often borne from the Flesh Pits of Lupercal's Folly, having been grown specifically for gene-seeding or picked from gene-screened and augmented slave stock. This can make most Fuil Óga physically superior to their elder brethren, and can make up for their lack of experience, brash natures, and sub-standard wargear. Moreover, this genetic engineering from "birth" means that they have been conditioned for absolute loyalty to the Warband, if not always their superiors. Such loyalty is acheived through various psycho conditioning and sugrical methods during the soon-to-be astartes early development. This makes Fuil Óga ideal spies and internal police within the Warband itself, readily relaying the actions of any would be traitors or usurpers within the Warband, and readily eliminating them for the chance of gaining higher status within the eyes of their masters.

Fuil Óga squads tend to congregate in squads that specialize in certain ways of war. These "Packs" tend to reflect the nature of the Fuil Óga within. Fuil Óga Havoc Packs tend to be cold and ruthless, while Raptor Packs are rowdy and headstrong. But it is the Fuil Óga Hunter Pack that is most common, armed with a wide range of wargear and tactical gear, Hunter Packs are generally Hunter-Killer teams sent behind enemy lines or ahead of the Storm Draugar lines in order to hunt down high value targets or slaughter retreating foes. Hunter Packs are glory hungry and cunning, always aware that their actions have a profound impact on the way their superiors view them. Fuil Óga Packs are usually led by an old or unfortunate Legate, one who has either passed his physical prime or has offended one of his commanders.

A Pack may also be led by an individual usually termed as an "Fuil Te" or "Te". Fuil Te are a rarity within the Storm Draugar, Fuil Óga who have proven themselves far and above their comrades, either by merit of command or arms, and are usually considered either genetically or inherently superior to their fellow Fuil Óga. Fuil Te are granted a position of leadership within the Pack as a trial by fire, to see if they are truly worthy of command and status. Fuil Te are usually destined for greatness, and do not stay within the ranks of the Fuil Óga for long.

Mournscream Stalkers
Mournscreams are base and loathsome creatures that have inhabited Lupercal's Folly since time immemorial. Some speculate they are descended from the original inhabitants of the great stellar fortress, now long since devolved by untold eons of inbreeding and exposure to the raw energies of Chaos. They are akin to Hullghasts, though considered a far more dangerous breed due to their cunning and use of primitive weapons. But a Mournscreams namesake and by far most terrifying weapon is its signature screech, which can carry through the entire interior of even the largest Imperial vessel and can easily make the sternest man quake in his boots. In large groups, this harrowing battle cry can even render men disoriented, deaf, or, in extreme cases, unconscious.

By the nature of their mere existence within the most inhospitable areas of both Lupercal's Folly and Storm Draugar warships, Mournscreams are extremely hardy creatures. They can survive for months on mere morsels of rotted meat and drops of anti-freeze, delve into areas so irradiated that only a Terminator or genestealer could survive, and even withstand the raw touch of the Warp for a brief time.

When the early Storm Draugar discovered them in their first expeditions deep into the then uninhabited bowels of Lupercal's Folly, they were deemed of little consequence, for the craven creatures scattered at the mere sight of the Chaos Marines and did well to evade large groups of humans. They were noted to be of some level of primitive culture, as they were seen bearing simple scrap spears and crude daggers. They even wore loincloths made of rat hide and used ritual body paints made of generator fluids. It is also believed that some tribes of Mournscreams even worshiped crude versions of the Chaos Gods, with the most often worshiped Gods being Tzeentch and Khorne.

But it was not long until cultists and pirates wandering alone or in pairs began to go missing. The issue, though oft grumbled about by the humans who served the Storm Draugar, was more or less ignored by the Blackspawn brothers and their lieutenants, who considered the beasts minor pests and nothing more. Often squads of Chaos Marines would hunt them for sport or use captured specimens to train Aspirants in hand to hand combat. The cultist also regularly gathered in large hunting bands and journeyed deep into the depths of Lupercal's Folly, flamers and shotguns in hand. They would kill scores of the fleeing creatures at a time, though often more than a few unlucky men were impaled by primitive spears and gored to death by claws.

That was the state of affairs until the Mournscream Uprising in M34, following the Siege of ''Lupercal's Folly. ''The creatures began to attack in bloody mass skirmishes, devouring whole blocks of cultist fodder and even retaking lower sections that they had long been driven out of. The armed platoons of Cultist sent to engage them were surprised when the beasts used surprisingly complex tactics, using their intimate knowledge of the fortresses inner workings to ambush the well armed squads and butcher them in close combat. It was only with the intervention of the Storm Draugar themselves and their Daemon Engines that the Mournscreams were finally driven back into the pits from whence they came. Following the near genocide of the creatures, Lord Murdok ordered that the survivors be rounded up and caged. Murdok was impressed by the Mournscreams abilities, and decided to see if they could be conditioned to act as battlefield troops.

Millennia later, the Storm Draugar still use what they call Mournscream Stalkers as forward scouts, harriers, and even assassins. As it turned out, Mournscreams could be easily "domesticated" and bred as war beasts, using their natural predatory instincts and extraordinary cunning to stalk the battlefields, picking off those who strayed from their comrades or to track down survivors following a chaotic victory. They could also be loosed en masse as a savage wave of spears, knuckle daggers, claws, and fangs. Amongst the Storm Draugar, Mournscreams are even known to be kept as pets, outfitted with deadly bionic weapons such as blades and power claws and trained to attack on their masters command. Unfortunately, some of these beasts escaped their masters, and once again prowl the depths of Lupercal's Folly, ever hungry for the taste of human flesh.

Fury Auxiliaries
Like so many of the forces of Chaos Undivided, the Storm Draugar readily harbor daemons within their ranks. But unlike so many of the forces of Chaos Undivided, the Storm Draugar pay homage to one particular breed of daemon over many others. The Furies are considered by many to be the most feeble and weak of the Warps denizens, damned to drift its swirling drifts and madding flows for all eternity for their lack of dedication as mortal souls.

But to the Storm Draugars unique Storm Cult, the Fury is the purest embodiment of the power of Chaos. Though downtrodden and outcast, their resolve is still unbroken, as every Fury leaps at the chance to do battle and free themselves from their torment. They are savage, vicious, and cunning. They strike swiftly and without mercy. Resilience, rage, speed, and cunning, each aspect of Storm Draugar themselves is brought to fruition within the black maelstrom of claws and fangs that is the Fury. To the cultists of the Storm Draugar, Furies are sacred above all, for they come in the greatest numbers and are truly Chaos incarnate. To the Draugar themselves, the Fury is a symbol of endurance and ferocity, of the spirit of the Warband. While other daemons and their masters are most certainly revered, few are met with as much exaltation as the Furies.

Thus, Lupercal's Folly has several holy sites, known as the Fury Spires, that roost whole hordes of the beasts. Here the Furies roost in the untold thousands, tended too by various Aspiring Sorcerers of the Warband and their psyker charges, waiting to be summoned in droves when the Storms go on the warpath.

As a result of the Fury Spires, the Storm Draugar have access to vast numbers of the creatures, for both battle and as fodder for Daemon Engines and Possessed Weapons. For while the people of Lupercal's Folly see the Furies as exalted, the Storm Draugar see them as ideal for their relative ease of summoning and binding to weapons, as well as the Furies lack of resistance when commanded. This also makes them worthy of praise in the Draugars eyes, though the praise of a Draugar is more... practical than that of a cultist of the Storm Cult.

Gargoyle Daemon Engines
Originally designed by Lord Murdok to be his unseen bodyguard whenever he took to the streets of Lupercal's Folly, the Gargoyle Daemon Engine has become a very deadly weapon of war for the Storm Draugar. Though considerably smaller than most Daemon Engines, the Gargoyles are a far cry from a minor threat. These squat beasts of iron are as dangerous as their monstrous forms would suggest.

Looking for all the world like a Ratling sized Maulerfiend, the winged Gargoyle is fast, agile, and more than capable of posing a threat to even a Space Marine should it get within slashing distance. The beasts come armed with a set of lighting claws, bladed wings, a pair of hellpistols mounted in the eye sockets, and a flamer or plasma rifle built into its brutally fanged maw. Furthermore its powerful tail can be mounted with a Power Maul or Power Sword to even further augment its ability in close combat.

Gargoyles exclusively house Furies within their metal forms, as the lowly beasts are easily bound to it and are easily summoned, thus making it one of the more cost effective daemon engines. However, this also means that Gargoyles cannot be blessed with any of the Marks of the Chaos Gods.

Gargoyles were designed to shadow their master as an unseen force of protectors, gliding from spire to spire on the repulsion field generators built into their backs. Holding completely still, one would be hard pressed to tell these beasts apart from their stony cousins, thus they took on their names.

As one would expect then, Gargoyles are not designed for prolonged combat, being relatively fragile when compared to the likes of the Maulerfiend and Blight Drone. They are vulnerable to sustained small arms fire and most certainly to any form of heavy weaponry. But the Gargoyles make up for this weakness with speed, power, and cunning. Gargoyles strike in flocks of five or more, swooping down from the skies, where they alight in the midst of the enemy. Its there, amongst the confusion and carnage, that they reap a bloody harvest of lives before taking to the skies once more. These creatures will carry on this cycle of carnage until they or the enemy are destroyed.

Gargoyles are also utilized to stalk and hunt down high value targets and scattered survivors as well, their daemonic senses and keen mechanical eyes, along with their ability to sit motionless for days at a time, make them ideal hunters.

Flesh Pit Behemoths
A hulking, nightmarish abomination, the Flesh Pit Behemoth is a beast borne of madness and heresy, leveled as a living battering ram against the most resilient foes of the Warband. Flesh Pit Behemoths are huge, heavily armed mutants, possessing bionics and freakish strength. Their hulking forms crash about the battlefield, great mutated claws and tendrils lashing and ripping while their surgically grafted weapons spew death and ruin from afar. But while their forms are indeed impressive, their minds are pitifully inept at even the most basic tasks. They are little more than slathering beasts, kept in moderate control by psycho-surgery and kept in drug educed comas when their presence is not needed by their masters.

But Flesh Pit Behemoths are never intentional creations, but are instead considered the best result of a gene-seeding gone horribly wrong. As the Storm Draugar are forced to utilize a great deal of unstable and bastardized gene-seed, many of their Fuil Óga suffer from mutations. These instabilities are usually kept minor due to the exacting and careful mixtures the Apothecaries of the Firi Arsa craft, but every now and then, a combination will prove violently unstable. The subject's genetic stability begins to deteriorate rapidly, and their form begins to shift and warp uncontrollably. In most Warbands, this would be the end as the incomplete creature devolves into a Chaos Spawn. But the Draugar, ever desperate to salvage what they can, and possessed of fairly advanced biotechnology, will attempt to rapidly mold the forming creature into a somewhat stable form. This hectic, violent process is by no means guaranteed to succeed, with many simply passing into Spawnhood and placed into cryo and stasis chambers to be unleashed as the Warband deems necessary.

But a few are saved, their forms cultivated via rapid surgery and hasty bionic augmentation into hulking, vaguely humanoid, forms. These are the Flesh Pit Behemoths, beasts of raw physical might such that they could be considered far superior to anything to emerge from the Pits. This leathality is further augmented after the beast is considered stable by various bionic enhancements, such as heavy weapons batteries and old Dreadnought class close combat weapons. The resulting great beast, bristling with both organic mutations and vile heretek weaponary, is a force truly terrible. Generally larger than an Ogryn, with some even dwarfing a Dreadnought, Flesh Pit Behemoths are great monstrous creatures, more than capable of butchering scores of enemies alone. But most are programmed to hunt in packs of three or four, making them a force truly devastating.

However, due to their bestial natures, and general lack of self preservation instincts, the Flesh Pit Behemoths are far from invincible. If not properly corralled or unleashed, they will charge head long into minefields, gun lines, and other such hazards that will completely waste their presence on the battlefield. It should also be noted that, while they are considered "stable", if their bionic blocks within their brains malfunction Flesh Pit Behemoths can work themselves into such a fury that their muscles literally rip themselves apart as they battle, causing the beast to fall apart at the seams in a violent orgy of bloodlust and savagery.

Legio Ferrox
The mighty Traitor Titan Legion of the Dark Forgeworld Shear, Legio Ferrox occasionally supports the Storms in their raids. Legio Ferrox is known as a terror force, made up of no less than twelve Feral Class Titans, six Ravager Class Titans, five Chaos Warlord Class Titans, and the dreadful Chaos Imperitor Class Titan, ''Yangin Marka. Yangin Marka, whose name roughly translates into Emperor of Fire ''in the low tongue of ancient Martians, is a machine of unparalleled might like all of its kin. But it, along with the rest of Legio Ferrox, is not subject to the Storm Draugar's whims. Instead they support the Warband at times of opportunity or when the Hereteks of Shear are sufficiently appeased by the Blackspawns offerings. At such times it can be certain that the Storm Draugar are to march on a powerful foe, for only then would they need the unfettered might of the great and terrible Legio Ferrox.

Culture
The Storm Draugar are known for their ad hoc style and traditions, carried from the Legions of old and the traitors of modernity. Almost every Marine has a story, a past that led to him wearing the black and purple of the Storm Draugar. Some are veterans of the long war, traitors and over ambitious madmen who abandoned their Legions for the chance to prove themselves far and above their former brothers. Others were jaded, felt put out or betrayed by their former brothers, and believing their alliances to the Legions betrayed. Even more are survivors from broken Warbands and renegade Chapters, cast offs who have no other place to go. These individuals were Chaos Marines so desperate and vile that they joined the warriors known as traitors, even amongst the forces of Chaos. But even fewer were bred to serve the Storm Draugar, born in the infamous flesh pits, forged in brutality, bathed in bloodlust. These fanatical monsters live to serve the Warband, ready to rend and kill in the glorious name of the Blackspawn brothers.

But all Storm Draugar share similar traits, traits of fury and bloodlust, of belligerence and ruthlessness. For each Storm Draugar knows what it is like to be hunted, to be cast out, to be left for dead. They wish to impose that pain upon those who dare stand against them, to show their enemies that they are no craven cowards or jackal hearted scavengers. They are of madmen whose names are whispered fearfully, even in the mighty Traitor Legions. And they go to battle accordingly, clad in the bones of their slain kin, marked with brands of shame and death, they face off against their accusers and rivals, unbroken, unafraid of death. For fear is a luxury Storm Draugar can ill afford. This does not always mean that the Draugar fight face to face, or with honor, but it does mean that they will never concede defeat, even as the planet beneath their feet crumbles, they will still stand and fight to the last.

From this crass menagerie of traitors, the Storm Draugar rises as a tide of malice and bloodshed, both great and terrible in their fury and bloodlust. Their hate has been forged by eons of infighting with their fellow traitors and constant, unending war with both the forces of xenos empires and the bloated Imperium of Man itself. Their will is indomitable, unbroken even by eons of war and death that has enveloped them. They are fury, they are belligerence, they are of iron and malice. They are the Storm. They are Draugar.

Tunnel Tongue
It should also be noted that the Storm Draugar have developed their own language, a form of both battle cant and private tongue of the marines themselves, a language only to be spoken brother to brother. However, it's origins are less than noble. This language, known as the Tunnel or Gutter Tongue, is a low form of ancient Cthonian. The Blackspawn Brothers themselves spoke it regularly when conversing with one another back in the days of the Great Crusade, for it was their native language, the only one spoken regularly in the old catacombs of Cthonia. Malak first used it as a means to mock Abaddon behind his back, and later taught his men it so they too may be informed of such ridicule and take merriment in it.

Eventually, Squad Hector took it as both a badge of initiation amongst members and a from of battle cant. From there the Tunnel Tongue spread to the nascent Storm Draugar during their sojourn to find a place to call home, with most of the survivors becoming privy to the language and learning it from what remained of Squad Hector. Over the ages, this language persisted, until it became the common language of the Chaos Marines of the Warband. Even the native people of Lupercal's Folly speak a bastardized, "common" form which is a mix of Tunnel Tongue and Low Gothic. The younger Storm Draugar treat the language as a badge of superiority, to show that they are a part of the brotherhood and that the lowly human chattel are of no consequence. Thus, the common people and human warriors of the Warband, save for the Janissaries, are bared from ever learning "proper" Tunnel Tongue on the pain of death. The older Storm Draugar find this greatly amusing, knowing that the language itself is a bastardization of and already crass language, and find the Fuil Óga's pride in it deliciously ironic.

Warband Cult
The Storm Draugar are in essence a Chaos Undivided Warband. Worshiping the great four Chaos Gods and lesser entities when it serves their intrests. There are a healthy number of them that also worship purely out of admiration for the power and majesty of the Dark Gods as well as those who use their favor purely for their own gain. But the Storm Cult, as it has been called, goes beyond the usual worship of the Gods as aspects of Chaos as a whole.

The Storm Cult, pioneered by Ingar Blackspawn, speaks of the Warp as a sort of super consciousness, a being beyond even the gods themselves. Adherents of the Storm Cult believe that the Warp itself is a god in of itself, and that the Chaos Gods are aspects of the Warp made manifest in a way that mortals can somewhat comprehend. The Warp itself is so vast and beyond the scope of mortal minds that it must manifest as these mighty beings, for only by splitting its divine majesty into many forms could it ever be comprehended by its worshipers as more than just a force of otherworldly nature. Therefore, it is the stuff of Chaos that is more worshiped than the beings who dominate it in a sense. While the Dark Gods are certainly acknowledged, beings of more "pure" warpstuff are considered most holy. Creatures like Furies, Khymeras, Vampyres, Astral Specters, Void Whales, and so forth. Generally these are beasts and entities without any alignment to a specific Chaos God, and it is this very nature that marks them out as pure in their ties to the Warp itself by adherents of the Storm Cult.

While the Storm Draugar's subjects worship these beings as beyond holy, they Draugar themselves venerate them for other, more practical reasons. Such creatures are easier to manipulate and bend to their wills, being less powerful and resistant than the daemons of the Dark Gods. This makes them ideal tools, weapons, and servants in the Long War.

The Sacking of Beilas
The Storm Draugar of the fearsome First Storm, led by the Blackspawn brothers themselves, assaulted the already beleaguered world of Beilas, and in the end left the world a dead husk, soaked in the blood of weakling loyalist, mindless Kroot, and spineless Dark Eldar foes. In the end the Storm Draugar would conqure all, damning the world to the Warp as they relased the ancient Daemon Prince imprisoned deep within the planet. For their dutiful service to the great Daemon Prince, the Blackspawns were rewarded with the ancient Tower of Skulls, an artifact of the Blood God so sacred and mighty that it could herald the doom of entire worlds in the proper hands.

The Spear of Perdition
The forces of the Storm Draugar would clash with their loyalist foes in M34

[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

The Battle for Htoh
The Storm Draugar's location within the Galaxy does not brook many a chance for them to face the mighty Sons of Russ, but the few times the two have clashed have been legendary battles to be certain. The first and arguably the most brutal of these battles was the War for Htoh, in which the great Herald Frosthide, Wolf Lord of the 4th Great Company in the ages of the 36th Millennium, did battle with the Blackspawn Brothers and their First Storm along with the forces of the Second and Tenth Storms. The innocent people of Htoh, who mined valuable resources from the bowels of their icy planet, were being hunted and butchered by the vile Storm Draugar as they pillaged the world. It was almost a year until the roaming fleet of the 4th Great Company picked up the distress signal. Upon hearing the plight of the people of Htoh, Herald Frosthide chose to move to the planets defense as quickly as possible, his men hungered for the blood of these vile traitors, these Storm Draugar.

But their arrival would come too late for most of Htohs scattered population, as the Storm Draugar took to hunting the locals for sport once the majority of plunder was taken from the barren mining world. Examples of such wickedness would drive the Space Wolves into a rage after they made their initial landing, capturing the small town of Torbirin. The account of the sheer butchery of Torbirin has been one of eternal infamy, with the flayed and even half eaten bodies of Imperial citizens hung by the ankles, swaying forlornly in the chilling breeze. It was said that the Space Wolves took such pity upon these lost souls that they halted their advance for a day to properly bury the corpses. On that night, as the forces of the Great Company gathered at their beach head, it is said that all Battle Brothers present made a solemn vow that no Storm Draugar would leave the planet alive.

The campaign would drag on for several months, with various bloody skirmishes for the few settlements that dotted the planets. The Space Wolves were gaining ground, banishing their enemies into the frozen wastes where the planet itself could wreak its vengeance upon the invaders. But the Storm Draugar cared little for the losses of slaves and cultists to the blizzards and occasional hostile fauna, and their elite Raptors and Janissaries constantly brutalized the Space Wolves at every step, harassing their forces with ambushes in the dead of night and on the march. Eventually the Space Wolves were stuck fighting a guerrilla war, chasing the Storm Draugar across the frozen wastes, their forces under constant attack by skirmishers and fast attack units.

It was not until the Battle of Johzu's Glacier that the two armies would meet one another truly a face to face. Here, with their backs to the great mazes of the glacier, the three Storms of the Storm Draugar faced the full force of the 4th Great Company. The resultant battle pitted the full force of the Great Company against the foul forces of the First Storm, with its dark champions in tow. The battle turned the snow slick and red with the blood of both loyalist and traitor as the Space Wolves unleashed their full fury, charging towards the Storm Draugar lines, firing their weapons. The first of their ranks, the mighty Thunderwolf Cavalry led by the young Wolf Guard Pack Leader Trygve Trollslayer, crashed into the ranks of the Storm Draugar, leaping over the hastily dug treneches and tearing into their cultist slaves. But the Draugar responded with withering fire from their armor and Havoc Marines, slaying scores of Battle Brothers as they obliterated full Rhinos. Meanwhile the Raptors leapt into the disembarking Space Wolves, engaging their loyalist foes in a bloody melee. Drop-Pods smashed into the midst of the Storm Draugar, unleashing squads of Blood Claws into the ranks of the Havoc Marines and their vile traitor guard. The din of war and death shook the ice from the glacier walls as the armies clashed fully, a brutal fire fight devolving into a hellish melee as these gods of war clashed. Damned bolterfire and screaming hellblades intermingled with roaring chainswords and bellowing bolters, and the warcries of the Sons of Russ mingled with the bloody catechisms of the Storm Draugar. Though the Space Wolves had the advantage in numbers, the Storm Draugar's resolve was nigh unbreakable, for their lord, Malak Blackspawn stood at the fore of their lines.

Standing upon a pile of loyalist bodies, flanked by his infernal Sciatha Fuath, Malak Blackspawn fought with the might expected from a veteran of the Long War. But his men were surrounded, outnumbered, and as the Space Wolves brought their Wolf Lord and the rest of his Wolf Guard to bear, outgunned. At the urging of his Equerry, Vakko, and Collus his second, the Back Breaker called for a fighting retreat into the mazes and catacombs of the glacier beyond. Their retreat covered by a savage orbital bombardment, brought down by the vile Ingar Blackspawn, the Storm Draugar managed to pull away from the battlefield and retreat into the icy halls and passages.

Naturally the Space Wolves, led forward by their Wolf Lord, Herald Frosthide, pursued the traitors, seeking to hunt them down as they coward in the crevasses and crags of the glacier. Little did Herald Frosthide know of the great ambush arrayed against him. Forced to abandon their vehicles and pursue their enemies in smaller squads as they navigated the twisting passages of the glacier, the Space Wolves were beset by foul traps and ambushes. Cultists with heavy weapon positions, Raptor lying in wait, even foul Gargoyle Daemon Engines striking from the chasm lips above. For six bloody hours Johzu's Glacier shook with the sounds of explosions and tense melees, a thousand small wars happening only yards from one another.

Meanwhile, Malak Blackspawn and his honor guard waited, at the center of this twisting network of passages and ice tunnels, awaiting what had been fortold by his sorcerer brother. It came, clad in great Terminator Armor, flanked by an old Cyberwolf and several Wolf Guard Terminators. Herald Frosthide, Wolf Lord of the Great Fourth Company, stood before Malak Blackspawn in this arena of ice and snow. No words were exchanged. The two bands simply sized one another up, and made themselves ready for battle.

Herald Frosthide and his men charged with a great cry, and though they were but ten, their voices echoed like the cry of a Legion. Meanwhile, the Greatest of Draugar Lords stood, his men leveling their weapons. At his warcry, they let loose a roaring tumult of fire. The Wolf Guard and their Lord responded in kind, opening fire upon their foes as well. With a savage howl, Herald Frosthide's companion, the old Cyberwolf Oben, rushed ahead of the pack, leaping at the braced Malak Blackspawn. But the beasts teeth met only solid adamantium as Malak's fist crushed its skull in mid flight. A roar of fury came from Herald Frosthide's lips, a curse in Fenrisian that is said to still echo within the glacier to this day. As the two forces clashed, a battle of legends began. Each of Herald Frosthide men were heroes amongst heroes, names who will be recited throughout the ages in the sagas of their battle-brothers. But on that day they faced no trifling renegades, they faced the Sciatha Fuath, the most murderous and vile warriors of the Storm Draugar. These were villans whose names had echoed through the stars in hushed whispers of terror and dread, vile monsters who had left seas of dead and dying in the wakes. The details of this clash are known only by the pict-capturing device mounted upon Wolf Guard Pack Master, Juri Frostfang.

First to fall was Gaius Braveheart, struck dead by the hulking beast now known as Waylon, who smote the great warrior and veteran of a thousand battles with a brutal salvo of strikes from his Chain Hammer. Then fell Tuk Glaivendoom, slain in pitched battle by the foul Cicero, his body split open by a single fell stroke. After a time, so too fell both Floki and Yehmirh Krakenbane, the twins slain by the monster Svarcher. Then Hadrad Doomfang was brought low by the savage Belza, his flank rended open and his body riddled with point blank fire from the traitors Reaper Autocannon. Then the traitor Vakko stole the life of Burtyr Bludhowler, peircing him with his sword and tearing open his throat with a burst of Combi-Bolter fire. Most devastating was the death of Trindimyre Wolfheart, a veteran easily nine hundred years old and a veteran of uncounted wars, laied low by the blackguard Collus, his throat pierced by the edge of the traitor's axe. Then fell Juri Frostfang himself, decapitated by Malak Blackspawn.

Juri's head, laying forlorn upon the snow, caught the last minutes of Herald Frosthide's life, beset on by all of Malak's men. Herald fought with the fury of a Thunderwolf, forcing his assailants back with his mighty Frostblade. But then the dark forms parted, forming a ring about the valiant Wolf Lord. They chanted in tongues as their liege stepped forward, Vanquisher balanced upon his shoulder. The two warriors did battle for several minutes, the mighty Herald Frosthide giving his all to slay Malak Blackspawn. But in the end he would be run through, his heart peirced and his spine severed. The last minutes of pitc-capture show the vile traitor lord honor his fallen foe, and position him in the traditional fashion of an honored Fenrisian warrior, weapon lain over him, hands clasped together, eyes shut in the eternal sleep of death.

Just as Malak and his band of butchers ready themselves to leave however, a band of Thunderwolf Cavalry thundered through the pass, rushing to their master's rescue. Though too late to save Herald Frosthide, the young Wolf Guard Pack Master, Trygve Trollslayer, and his men, charged forward to avenge their fallen Wolf Lord. But they were cut down by two packs of Roghan Sciros positioned at the lip of the arena, positioned there based on the visions of the foul Ingar Blackspawn. Their fell weapons cut down all but three, Trygve Trollslayer and two of his Battle Brothers. Trygve charged Malak Blackspawn, his heart full of fury. But the Back Breaker slew his mount with one fell swing of his screaming blade. The young Wolf Guard, without a mount and severely outmatched, threw himself at the Greatest of Draugar Lords. His fury was great, but Malak Blackspawn was a warrior the likes of which raw fury alone is hardly a sufficient weapon. His limbs torn from him and his heart pierced, Trygve Trollslayer watched in agony and rage as the murderers of his lord took their leave.

Following this disastrous battle, the Storm Draugar took their leave of Htoh, taking with them a great deal of looted wargear and rare samples of Space Wolves gene-seed. Meanwhile the 4th Great Company lie in ruin, scarcely a hundred Battle Brothers remained. But the Storm Draugar payed for their haul in the blood of their brothers and their Daemon Engines, which were utterly obliterated by the Space Wolves. In the end, Trygve Trollslayer took the mantle of Wolf Lord of the 4th Great Company until his death in M40, hunting Malak Blackspawn to the bitterest of ends.

The Rhedon War
The veterans of the Revealers Chapter often lament the savage and infamous Rhedon War, when the 4th and 5th Companies of the Revealers were brutally assaulted by the forces of the Storm Draugar, namely, the deadly forces of the 1st, 2nd, 5th, and 8th Storms. The Revealers had arrived on the world of Rhedon to utterly crush a system wide rebellion that threatened the very vital Hive World of Rhedon, but more importantly the neighboring Forge World of Valthorn.

Elements of the rebellion were confirmed by PDF forces to be affiliated with the Ruinous Powers, and elements of Ordo Hereticus had petitioned the Revealers for assistance, which they readily gave. However, once the purge began in earnest, with the support of both the Inquisition and elements of the nearby Forge World's Titan Legion, a far greater threat appeared. As if summoned by the anarchy that had gripped the system, the Storm Draugar spilled forth from the Warp, gaining a foothold on the four other outlying worlds of the system. The first to fall was the outermost planet of Keron, an icy mining world whose PDF garrisons quickly surrendered once the first forces of the 2nd Storm, lead by the vile traitor Norgath Oath-Breaker, made planet fall.

Then fell the orbital stations and shipyards of the gas giant Freya, whose populations were utterly butchered by the 1st Storm's elite Janissaries as they captured the vital bays and shipyards. It was only at the rocky desert world of Numain that the forces of the Storm Draugar were truly tested. The Revealers 5th Company, lead by young but honored Captain Baserilus, contested elements of both the 1st and 2nd Storm for the barren rock.

Meanwhile, the remaining elements of the Storm Draugar's battlefleet split into two battle groups, one lead by Malak Blackspawn, and another lead by the vile traitors Baail Deurtog and Krethnan Bloodlord. While Malak led his forces towards Rhedon, Baail Deurtog and Krethnan Bloodlord descended upon the Agri World of Bu'Than, circumventing all resistance from the loyalist elements within the system and ravaging the whole world within hours. Krethnan's 8th Storm swiftly enslaved the population and sacrificed the planets vital livestock to the Dark Gods. Meanwhile Baail Deurtog led his Fifth Storm in the abject slaughter of Bu'Than's PDF and government leaders, reveling in his ill gotten victories against the terrified agri worlders.

[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

The Battle of Firehold
Firehold is now the backbone of the Blackspawn Dominion, a fully fledged Foretress World from which much of their holdings in the River of Exiles are governed. While Lupercal's Folly is the home of the Warband, Firehold is where its mortal supporters rally and their vast fleets muster to defend their territory while the Storms are away. However, Firehold was once under the command of the vile xenos warlord Hul'Dak'Shoka, who had ruled this fortress world deep in the heart of the River of Exiles for as long as time immemorial. This would change but several centuries following the Horus Heresy, as the forces of various warlords and upstarts from the Traitor Legions battled for control of this valuable world. But of all the foes the Storm Draugar would face in the conquest of the world, none were as fearsome as the mighty Chaos Lord known simply as Xaphuris.

The Storm Draugar took full measure of their foes, and, having just recently rebuilt much of their forces following the Siege of Lupercal's Folly, struck savagely, with the forces of the Second Storm, led by the savage Norgath Oath-Breaker, spearheading the Storm Draugar's planetary assault. Followed closely by the First Storm and the Thirteenth Storm, the Storm Draugar's forces quickly dove into the flanks of the Cult of the Black Star and Lords of Khorne Warbands in the main fortress city of Bloq'Kunea, utterly devastating both. This left only Hul'Dak'Shoka's forces within the city fortress and the forces of a then unknown Chaos Warband. With most of their enemies driven from them or slain, Malak Blackspawn took his First Storm and marched on the main palace of the city fortress, seeking to slay the Xenos Warlord and finally claim this world as his own. But he was met with resistance by the sudden arrival of the Word Bearers Warband known as the Crimson Husk, and reports of another Warband, known only as the Dark Covenant, engaging the forces of the Thirteenth and Second Storm. This four way battle for the fortress city would rage on for several months, with the Crimson Husk bringing vast numbers of disciplined Chaos Marines and zealous Cultists, while the Dark Covenant relied on rapid assaults and the Storm Draugar held with their freshly crafted Daemon Engines.

[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

The Butchery of Umdran
"A rider in pale, alone, brandishing a three pronged claw. He has no past, and needs no future. He is death. And he is ours to command brother."

- Ingar Blackspawn as Mahdiler the Pale bends at the knee before the Blackspawn brothers

Umdran was once a fertile and populous agri-world, known well for its bountiful fields and hardy people. That was before the Storm Draugar came. Before the discovery of the Pale One. The Storm Draugar fell upon Umdran for an unknown purpose, brought there by the visions of Ingar Blackspawn. The assault itself was of trivial difficulty, as the agri-world was ill prepared for the sudden assault of the forces of Chaos. Nevertheless, the local PDF and fleet mounted a competent resistance, and managed to maintain cohesion for several days before finally shattering into confusion and disarray as men deserted and armies were vanquished. But the real horror began after the fall of the final large city on Umdran. The local populations scattered in vast numbers, fleeing the blood hungry masses of the Storm Draugar. Malak Blackspawn, hearing the roars for more blood and battle, declared the remainder of the campaign on the world a "Great Hunt" and promised glory to the soldier, marine or man, who gathered the greatest tally of kills of the scattered planets population.

Thus the foul sport began, with the entirety of the First Storm breaking up into various hunting parties, crashing through the fields and forest of Umdran searching for the surviving population of the planet. But soon, strange reports began to come in, of whole refugee camps butchered miles ahead of the advance, of entire convoys, smelling of rot and slaughter, that must have been dead for weeks so bad was the stench and decay. It was only in the final week of what the Imperium would term the Buchery of Umdran that the culprit of the copious slaughters was discovered. As Malak and Ingar Blackspawn partook in the final days of the Great Hunt from atop the Land Raider Phobos Neambhri Laoch, the PDF refugee convoy they were pursuing began to smoke in the distance. By the time the hunters had arrived, the convoy had already been utterly sacked, with rot-flies and mangled bodies laying amidst the burning hulks of transports. It was only then, as the few survivors fled on foot up the grassy hill to the side of the dirt road, that the marauder showed himself.

A Space Marine in pale white armor, stained with blood and dirt, atop a spiked warbike, rode from the treeline. He barreled through the wreckage, guns blazing, wicked power claw raised. He fired, not to kill, but to corral. The PDF soldiers turned to face their attacker, confident it seemed, in holding the high ground. Their lasfire whizzed by or slapped into the pale one's armor harmlessly as he closed the gap, no warcry upon his lips, only the grim staccato of his mounted bolters accompanying the roar of his charnel steeds engine. One of the PDF, a man that could easily be identified as the PDF Commissar, screamed his orders. One of the pale faced troopers hefted a rocket launcher, and fired. The rocked seemed to strike true, and for a moment the gunline fell silent. Malak was about to signal the crew of the Indefatigable Destroyer to finish the PDF when Ingar suddenly bayed him to hold the order, watching the cloud of dust intently. With a black roar, the cloud parted, showing the pale rider, unblemished by the blast. He closed the gap, impaling three men upon his bikes spikes and running two more down before he struck down the Commissar. The remaining PDF were butchered wholesale, the few who broke from the melee slain with the deft toss of a Plague Grenade. As their bones slowly dissolved before their eyes, the Chaos Marine biker rolled up to the front of the ''Indefatigable Destroyer. ''He dismounted, standing tall before the Blackspawn brothers. Without a word he unpacked a great burlap sack from his body bedecked steed, and let it drop before his feet. Hundreds of mouldering heads slowly rolled out, some still twitching, mouthing screams and curses as they were picked over by rot-flies. With this horrendous bounty at his feet, the Pale One dropped to his knee, and presented the Commissar's head to the Blackspawn brothers. Its eyes still twitched and its mouth hung open in a frozen scream, the flies had already settled upon it, chewing through the cheeks and alighting upon the gums.

Ingar had forseen the Bikers presence here, and told his brother that this man would be a worthy addition to their cause. Malak agreed that the Pale One was possessed of skill, and had won the Great Hunt, making him more than worthy of flying the Warbands colors. But, the great Malak asked first to know the pale riders name.

"I am of no title or name of birth. I have never needed one." The Pale One spoke.

Malak smiled, a warrior with no name, such a thing was not uncommon amongst the ranks of the Storm Draugar.

"Fine then, Pale One, you shall be my Mahdiler, my death dealer."

And so it was, as the Storm Draugar left, Umdran fell. Not to anarchy from depopulation, but plague, for as the Draugar marched back to their ships, the planet became inexplicably infested with disease. And as the ships drifted back into the void, a sickly mark boiled its way to the surface of Mahdiler's skin. A black portent of things to come.

The Fires of Nosta
A brutal battle for the sacred shrines of decadence on the Chaos controlled world of Nosta, the Storm Draugar contested the Slaaneshii Warband known as the Children of the Twisted Lash, lead by then infamous Daemon Prince Vorule the Omnipotent. The war began in earnest when the might of four Storms, the 1st, 4th, 11th, and the 2nd, launched a surprise attack on the Nosta system. The combined might of the four Storms, plus the added support from elements of the Blackspawn Dominions local warfleets, was more than enough to overwhelm the indolent daemon prince's local fleet.

With foes bearing down upon his lavished throne world, Vorule decided to call in sellswords and old favors to fill in the gaps in his Warband. The reinforcements arrived just in time, as the Storm Draugar had utterly ravaged the system, laying waste to the Children of the Twisted Lash's forces as they attempted to repel the invaders. With the support of a rogues gallery of sell swords and mercenaries, Vorule's final stand on his throneworld of Nosta would prove considerable. To deal with Malak Blackspawn himself, however, was a more difficult task than the actual defense of his palace and the planet it lay upon. For months Vorule had sent assassin after assassin but to no avail. Even his most skilled champions and powerful sorcerers had all fallen to ''Vanquisher. ''But an opportunity presented itself with the raptor known as Umbal the Duelist. Umbal boasted that he had never been bested in a duel, and swore to the Daemon Prince of Nosta that he would see his enemies dead for a price. Vorule graciously accepted the young raptor's terms, so long as the menace of the Storm Draugar was dealt with.

Unfortunately for Vorule, Malak bested Umbal, and even gained the young Chaos Marines admiration. Never had Umbal known defeat, nore had he ever seen a foe fight with such magnificent might. Malak was like a great beast to Umbal, like a lion amongst wolves. He bent at the knee, and as the Greatest of Draugar Lords raised his blade to smite him, pledged his blade to the Storm Draugars service. Malak was taken aback, for Umbal was clearly not begging for his life, but pledging himself with honor. While distrustful of the young Raptor, Malak was not about to deny an extra blade in the upcoming battle with the Daemon Prince himself.

With Umbal at his side, Malak was able to bypass the defenses of Vorule's palace and face down the Daemon Prince within his own chambers. The resulting battle was one of epic proportions, for Vorule the Omnipotent was surely no weakling, having slain scores of great foes before on his path to ascendancy. But eons of indolence had made Vorule soft, and Malak Blackspawn proved himself the stronger warrior as he tore the Daemon Prince's hearts from his chest. While Malak usually despised traitors, Umbal had proven himself worthy of his respect, his skill with a blade and martial honor washing away any stain of treachery.

Nosta would then fall to the rule of one of the Daemon Prince's prized slaves, a lowly pleasure slave by the name of Feng. Before his internment as one of Vorule's many concubines, Feng, known by his proper title as Prince Feng Kim Shin IV, was the next in line to rule the civilized Imperial world of Phadras XII. However, as he is now, he is considerably more pleased to now be lord and ruler over the pleasure world of Nosta. For Nosta is now the main revel world of the Storm Draugar, where the ends of great campaigns are celebrated and vast orgies of debauchery and indulgence are held in the name of the Prince of Pleasure.

Battle for Hive Sega Prime
An infamous campaign ending in disaster and legendary bloodshed, the Battle for Hive Sega Prime was the climax of the great Uldun Sub-Sector Civil War. The great conflict began when the agents of Chaos turned the Sub-Sectors Lord Militant, Sebastian Kene, to the service of the Dark Gods. From his fortress deep within the lunar fortress world of Luvictai Minor, the traitor Lord Militant orchestrated a great, Sector wide, coup. Hundreds of loyal lords and bureaucrats were slain and supplanted with the Militants supporters. In the wake of this great power grab and the Lord Militants "Official" declaration of cessation from the Imperium, several large groupings of still loyal Imperial Guard and even entire world governments launched and ad hoc counter attack, thus resulting in a massive, sector wide conflict. [THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

The Killing Fields of Hellgate
The Cornelius Sub-Sector was once a crown jewel of the Imperium, a vital area of space that connected the great tithe ships from the Galactic East to the Segmentum Solar at the very heart of the Imperium. Located on the very edge of the Segmentum Solar, the Sub-Sector was vital to many Imperial worlds both before and behind it. For, without the Sub-Sector as a safe harbor, many ships would see their routes extended for many months if not years. A shame then, that it was destined to be the battle ground of a bloody conflict. The heralds of this bloodshed was the swarms of the Tyranid Splinter Fleet known as Hive Fleet Shoggoth. The hideous, Warp Tainted Hive Fleet descended first on the great fortress world of Hellgate. Hellgate was the very heart of the Cornelius Sub-Sectors fleet and home to its elite military forces, with regiments drawn from all over the guard and its very own Hellgate Guard. The Guard fought hard but the Tyranids of Hive Fleet Shoggoth were simply too many and ravenous. Within months much of the fortress world and most of the Sub-Sector's fleet were overrun. But the Tyranids too took grievous casualties, and soon the war ground to a stalemate. That is, until the Storm Draugar arrived. The 1st Storm arrived to pillage the famously wealthy Sub-Sector, and were lead by none other than the Blackspawn Brothers themselves. The Storm Draugar slammed into both the Tyranid and Imperial fleet over Hellgate, catching both off guard and casting them aside.

The resultant Battle for Hellgate was a bloody and vicious affair, with the Storm Draugar destroying the remaining forces of the Imperial Guard while simultaneously taking ground from the Tyranid force. However, the resistance from the Imperial forces on Hellgate was fierce, and they did not die quietly. This forced the Storm Draugar to prioritize these servants of the Emperor, allowing the Tyranids to mount a planet wide counterattack. Amdist the rubble and fire of Hellgate, the Storm Draugar made their stand against the ravenous tide of Hive Fleet Shoggoth. The Tyranids were vast and vicious, their counterattack overwhelming several key Storm Draugar positions. Malak Blackspawn ordered, under the council of Ingar, that all his forces fall back to defend the main fortress capital of Myre's Judgment. The siege of the city was brutal, with the Tyranids Hive Tyrant taking part personally on the battlefield. Wave after wave crashed against the city walls, kept at bay by desperate cultist fire and the roar of Chaos Marine Havoc squads. Umbal the Duelist and Mahdiler the Pale both lead bloody counterattacks against the Tyranid lines but to no avail, the Tyranid tide of Hive Fleet Shoggoth seemed almost invincible. That was until Malak Blackspawn, flanked by Warpsmith Hurlok Zahz and his Maulerfiend, Leviathan, sallied forth alongside Krysis' band of Berzerkers and the mighty Chaos Dreadnought, Geudan the Vanquished. Together, this band of fell champions struck deep into the enemy horde, and alone Malak Blackspawn faced the Hive Tyrant. Malak slew the beast in a great battle, flaying it up the middle with Vanquisher. Following the defeat of the Hive Tyrant, the remaining Tyranids crumbled into feral bands, scattering across the planet and hunted down by the Storm Draugar. The Warband took their spoils, vast arsenals of the fortress world were now theirs. With these arms in hand, the Storm Draugar set their sights on the other worlds of the Cornelius Sub-Sector, ready to burn and pillage further in the name of the Dark Gods.

Blood on Sentinel Prime
The capital of the several worlds that made up the Cornelius Sub-Sector and the second to be assaulted by the might of the Storm Draugar, the Imperial Industrial world of Sentinel Prime would have been the prize of Malak and Ingar, were it not for the actions of a scant force of Guardsmen from the Vostroyan 43rd and the native people of the proto-hive city known as Julianis. The Guardsmen had been sent to this world to quell a genestealer cult on the behalf of the Capital Worlds influential Governor, but their forces were considered minor, with little more than a few squadrons of Leman Russ Tanks and Sentinels along with a few hundred men, as the rest of the regiment was sent to Hellgate to deal with the Hive Fleet. When the Storm Draugar came, the men and women of the 43rd were caught off guard. The naval detachment sent to ferry them off world was destroyed swiftly and without mercy by the Storm Draugar's blood hungry fleet, and the initial assault, spearheaded by Malak himself, claimed two of the neighboring industrial cities within days. The tales from refugees were nothing short of horrifying. The Storm Draugar were not capturing these large cities, they were pillaging them and razing them to the ground. Such a revelation crippled moral, making it a very busy week for both the Vostroyan 43rd's regimental Commissar, his staff, and the lone PDF Commissar.

The 43rd steeled their fortifications throughout the city, preparing for the great battle to come. Thousands of PDF soldiers, exhausted from the recent rebellion, watched with dread as their city was once again prepared for all out war. But, unbeknownst to both the Guard and PDF, a young priestess by the name of Isabelle Crane had been wandering the underhives, fanning the flames of righteous fury amongst the proto-hive cities poor and malcontent. The recent civil war brought on by the genestealer cult's vile lies and the invasion of the forces of Chaos were her examples. The sub-sector had grown corrupt, infected with heresy and filth, all of it a great slight against the God Emperor. With but her words, Isabelle raised an army of the faithful. But the great battle for Julianis would tell if the zeal of a few million and the iron will of a scant hundred could withstand the might of the coming storm.

The Storm Draugars initial assault of the proto-hive was ruthless, with the outer sections falling almost immediately to the roving horde of cultist and daemon cannon fodder. Those who remained, trapped by the sea of lunatic gunmen and daemonic horrors, were swiftly crushed by the Storm Draugar themselves. The city was rapidly falling, as armored convoys of Chaos Marines pushed inward like a hundred red hot daggers and their foot soldiers fought room to room, street by street, butchering both civilian and soldier alike. But the most horrifying were the Raptors, spearheaded by both the Draugar Lord of the 7th Storm, Heshgar the Heathen, and the infamous Champion, Umbal the Duelist. These shrieking devils hunted down and swiftly butchered various PDF command squads, leaving the local militia practically leaderless. Most abandoned their posts, while some even defected to the forces of the Dark Gods.

With most of the mid and lower hive now in ruins following the Storm Draugar's sweeping advance, it was now up to the few hundred men and women of the Vostroyan 43rd and their remaining PDF counterparts to hold the last barrier between the Storm Draugar and total domination of the planet, the great central span known as King's Span. This massive suspended highway led to the great gates that separated the lower and mid levels of Julianis from the upper hives. The great walls were otherwise impenetrable, save for the ancient crevasses and cracks that only the most learned underhivers knew of. If the gates fell to the Storm Draugar, virtually nothing would stand in their way to the highest levels of the city. They would freely maraud with naught but the forces of the spire nobles personal guard to stand against them. While such a force would usually be considered dangerous, against the likes of the Storm Draugar and the Blackspawn brothers, it was a laughably inadequate handful of haughty royal guard armed with mere toys in the face of the Storm Draugar's Chaos Marines and elite Janissaries.

The Battle for King's Span began in earnest, on the dawn. When the scouts reported the massive armored column, the bulk of the mighty First Storm, rolling up the desolate highway leading to King's Span. A full force of over one hundred Chaos Marines, transported by a massive complement of Rhinos and supported by several Predator Annihilators, a veritable horde of Cultists, unknown numbers of elite Janissaries, and a dreadful Fire Raptor Gunship. It was a force of such might and terror inducing size that several scouts took their own lives upon reporting its mere presence. But in spite of the dread and fear that permeated the defenders of Julianis, the Vostroyan 43rd would not cower behind the gates and wait for death to come. Marshaling his forces, Colonel Sergei Osvaldo ordered that the gates be opened for his men. It was suicide, but one that would at least buy the PDF and royal guard within the walls time. The men and women of the Vostroyan 43rd marched without fear onto King's Span and readied the few positions they could hold. Chimeras rolled forward, sandbags were fortified with the dead and rubble. What few explosives the men had on hand were jury rigged into deadly IEDs. Colonel Sergei was determined, as were the rest of his men, to die having given the enemy the most bloody of noses. As the sun set high in the sky, shining light through the spire canopy above King's Span and illuminating the great gates at their back, the Vostroyan 43rd dug into their defenses and readied their ranks as the sound of engines came roaring through the deserted city.

But soon, a much graver sound accompanied the roar of tanks and transports. The sound of a thousand foot falls, the bellowing warsongs of the old Legions, and the thunderous scream of the Fire Raptor overhead. It was this Gunship, Firebreed, piloted by the Warband ace, Emile the Fury, that struck first. Flying down the length of the span, the Fire Raptor let loose with its Avenger Bolt Cannons first, shredding through the few vehicles the 43rd had amassed. Three Chimeras and one of the precious few Leman Russ tanks were torn to ribbons, their crews butchered by warpfire rounds. As the smoke and fire of the Gunships first strafe lifted, the Guardsmen came face to face with the vanguard of the First Storm, hordes of screaming cultists. The throngs of madness and fury poured over the span, trampling barbed wire and charging through the 43rd's impromptu minefields unfazed. For every one that fell it seemed that eight more would rise from the teeming ranks. The first gun-lines of Vostroyan's fought valiantly but it was mere moments before they were overrun, tackled to the ground and butchered like Grox. The second line fared better, supported by two of the remaining five Leman Russ tanks and one of the three surviving Chimeras. Their pinpoint volleys of lasfire, combined with multi-laser and heavy bolter fire, easily scythed down great swaths of the cultists fodder. But then, bursting from portals of warpfire and lighting, came the vicious daemons. Bloodletters to be exact. The daemons, using the faltering cultists as a shield, advanced on the gun-lines with unnatural swiftness, leaping over the barricades. The men and women of the 43rd's second line had no hope against the likes of Khorne's footsoldiers, and were cut down to a man. The Leman Russes and Chimera attempted to withdraw, but were instead boarded by the cultists and daemons, swarming over their hulls like ants upon a lion. With their hellblades the Bloodletters easily carved open the hatches, and with their grenades the cultists dispatched the crews within. To their credit, the crews of the second line's armor never stopped firing their weapons until the very end.

But finally the inexorable horde would be held by the third and final line, having received reinforcements from PDF volunteers, who were so inspired by the bravery of the 43rd that they had chosen to stand with their Guard counterparts rather than watch them die from behind the relative safety of the gates. With these numbers, remaining armor, and sparse few heavy weapons, the final line finally put a stop to the cultist swarm and slew their daemonic comrades in a hail of fire. A great cheer rose up from the PDF as the cultists routed and the daemons were torn down. But the men and women of the 43rd remained silent, for they knew that the battle had only just begun.

First came the Predators, their engines belching daemonfire and great lascannons primed. Marching at their side was the second wave of infantry, made up of traitor guard and what could be salvaged from the battered cultist ranks. Covered by another blistering strafing run by the Gunship, which destroyed the remaining Chimeras and several Guardsmen within their proximity, the second wave moved up with a much more measured pace. The Leman Russes tried valiantly to eliminate the hellish machines as they advanced, but the Predators made short work of their outnumbered opponents, blasting their hulls to pieces and utterly incinerating the crews within. With their primary targets destroyed, the Predators turned their guns to the gate and few heavy weapon emplacements the 43rd still had remaining as the infantry moved up, eager for the blood of these fearless defenders. As the enemy came forth, the Colonel and his staff took up position at the very front, roaring encouragement to his troops even as great arcs of lasfire began to burn down the gate behind them. Such a rallying cry yielded a considerable result, for the men and women of the 43rd managed to hold the line. The traitor guard and their cultists fodder were pinned down by the sheer tenacity of the defenders fire, and were rendered impotent as their casualties began to mount. Taking cover behind the burnt out hulks and bodies of their fallen, the Storm Draugar's second wave of cultists and traitor guard were drawn into a bloody firefight.

With the stalling of the second wave, the Storm Draugar themselves finally took to the field, their Rhinos crushing the corpses of the fallen as they rolled forward, gunners firing upon the Guardsmen positions. As the Rhinos took their positions, the first Storm Draugar disembarked, Fuil Óga, hungry for their first taste of real combat. They waded through the hail of fire, clad in their twisted armor and brandishing hellish weaponary. The Havoc Packs silenced the valiant Guard heavy weapons squads with their Autocannons and Missile Launchers, and the Hunters surged forwards with grenades and bolters in hand. The bloody assault sent the 43rd reeling, men shell shocked by the sudden devastation wrought by the Storm Draugar. The traitor guard and cultists, emboldened by their masters, surged forth to finish the slaves of the Corpse Emperor. Even as their lines were overrun, the men and women of the 43rd still refused to break, forming pockets of resistance with their own bodies, fighting tooth and nail against the bayonets and blades of the heretics. Colonel Sergei Osvaldo himself stood atop the ruins of a Chimera, bolt pistol and saber in hand, hurling abuse in the face of the enemy. But his valiance seemed for nought, as even while his men fought to the death, the hulking forms of the Storm Draugar closed in, heedless of all that stood before them. Already the foremost knots of Guardsmen that resisted the press of cultists were crushed in hand to hand combat by these warp spawned titans. And behind this vanguard came the more veteran Chaos Marines, and, beyond them, came the mighty Malak Blackspawn himself, marching forward with his Sciatha Fuath at his side, ready to lead the charge into the spires.

Eventually the Colonel was pulled from his perch atop the Chimera, dragged down within a mass of cudgels and rusty knives. But then a hand caught his own, and pulled him from the horde. What the Colonel saw was a young woman, her body wreathed in the robes of a simple preacher. In one hand she bore a simple shotgun, in the other she held firm his hand. As he was pulled from the blood hungry masses onto the relative safety of the ruined Chimera, the Colonel heard a deafening roar. At first he assumed it to be another wave of daemons, or the fearsome battle cry of the Storm Draugars closing marines. But then he felt the ground tremble, and turned his eyes to the molten ruins of the great gate.

A grand howling tide of civilians, armed with but cudgels and the odd stubber, came pouring through the gates. A zealous tide of underhivers, ignored by the Storm Draugars mass assaults, had been rallied by this waif of a preacher. They were the weak and disenfranchised, hunted by the Gene-Stealer cults during the recent rebellion and now under threat by the forces of Chaos. But rather than cower, these tides of unwashed humanity and mutated wretches had banded together under their faith in the Emperor and hate of all things corrupt and alien. The rabid tide smashed into the Storm Draugar lines with the force of an artillery barrage, drowning the cultist fodder and traitor guard regulars in a sea of shivs and clubs. The few surviving PDF and Guardsmen dragged themselves from the horde and stood atop the ruins of their tanks and chimeras, firing the last of their ammunition at the now rapidly routing heretics.

But the Draugar themselves were not deterred by these tides of zealots, and the Fuil Óga eagerly leapt into the midst of the onrushing tide. At first, they slaughtered with abandon, every strike and shot a certain kill, they towered over the underhivers like stones in the tide of a rapid. But soon the sheer weight of numbers and force of the stampede proved its worth. One by one the Fuil Óga at the front were pulled down by the sheer numbers of the militia, beaten and crushed to death under innumerable bodies. But their brothers further down the span readied their weapons. The Havocs let loose a withering barrage, but the numbers were so great that they did little more but rob themselves of a retreat. When the wave of bodies hit them, these bastions of murder found themselves knocked from their feet, some even cast off the span with clusters of zealots still clinging to them as they fell to their doom miles below.

The Fuil Óga were utterly overrun, likely killed to a man. But their elders were further back where the shambles of the second guard line stood resolute, still incapable of comprehending the sheer weight of numbers arrayed against them. At their fore, Malak Blackspawn and his Sciatha Fuath had finally arrived, arriving in the Phobos Land Raider, ''Neambhri Laoch. ''Malak saw the onrushing tide as a last, desperate gambit by the cities defenders. Peasant militia, gathered at gunpoint no doubt, thrown into a psudo-religious riot by some balding priests. His Storm Draugar were beneath this, but such a slaughter would certainly please the Dark Gods. Already Malak's men were taking up their positions, the Havocs finding perches and strong points amdist the 43rd's still standing fortifications, while the regulars formed a line of bolters and blades. At the rear of this forming line were the Raptors, with the infamous Umbal the Duelist amongst their ranks, held in reserve to butcher the enemy when their lines inevitably broke against the bulwark of malice arrayed against them. The first to fall to the Storm Draugar's vile weapons were their own cultists and traitor guardsmen, who found themselves gunned down as they neared their masters. Malak was not pleased with their cowardice, so an example was made. As this was done, the elite Janissaries arrived from the rear most area of the column, fresh and ready to do battle alongside their hulking masters. These elite soldiers, clad in their masterfully manufactured flak and carapace armor, and brandishing all manner of hellguns and bolt rifles, took their positions amdist the Storm Draugar themselves. The killing ground was ready, just in time for the first throngs the mob to close into range.

The Havocs let loose with their vile weaponry, autocannons and heavy bolters utterly annihilating hundreds if not thousands of the faithful. Moments later their trained their lascannons and rocket launchers as well, adding more bodies to the already gruesome tally.

[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

Assault of Ke'Lan
During the bloody battle on Sentinel Prime, the forces of the Eldar Craftworld Ke'Lan slipped into the sector without notice. The Farseers foresaw great sorrow for the nearby Maiden Worlds that existed just outside the Sub-Sector, kept hidden from the Imperium by powerful psychic barriers and ancient technologies. However, their safety was now in grave jeopardy. The Farseers held that the havoc and sorcery caused by the Storm Draugar could very well destabilize these ancient wards of protection, leaving the Maiden worlds vulnerable to either the forces of Chaos or the Imperium of Man.

Determined to change these events, the Craftworld of Ke'Lan sent forth a small but powerful warhost, led by the great Autarch Sebin, an Eldar whose unparalleled dedication to the Path of Command had seen Ke'Lan through the darkest of times. The Warhost sought to carry out a two pronged assault: One, undertaken by Farseer Nayair, to further sabotage the forces of the Imperium within the sector, thus ensuring that they would not mobilize their forces until the Maiden Worlds were secure. The second however, was led by Sebin himself, and its goal was much less simple. The Storm Draugar had been bloodied, but their ferocity remained unabashed, and the foul sorcery that followed in their wake would surely reveal the location of the Maiden worlds to them. To avoid this, the second prong of the Warhost was to ensure that the Blackspawn brothers did not leave the Cornelius Sub-Sector alive.

[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

Battle of the Nexus
[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

The Siege of Halcyon
[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

Brethern of Spite
[THE GLORIOUS SCRIPTS OF THE DARK GODS ARE PENDING, THE CULTISTS ARE BEING DISCIPLINED FOR THIS DELAY]

The Kabal of The Skewering Feather
The Kabal of The Skewering Feather has come into conflict with the Storm Draugar for many years now and while Silinurl Luvt finds these Chaos Marines amusing, the Storm Draugar consider the Kabal to be an excellent foe, crafty, sadistic, and unpredictable. The Archons Incubus bodyguard and brother, Izrivan Luvt developed quite the rivalry with Malak Blackspawn after the two dueled to the during The Sacking of Beilas.

Hadrak, the Visceral Artist
A powerful Daemon Prince of Slaanesh summoned on rare occasion by the Storm Draugars various Sorcerer Cabals and Ingar himself, Hadrak is a deadly weapon utilized when the boundless ability of a servant of Slaanesh is required. Inherently difficult to summon and requiring significant tribute following his entrance into the material realm, Hadrak is usually considered a form of last resort. However, his preference of a humanoid form and willingness to follow general orders make him a boon on the battlefield, where his unassuming form allows him to close in on the enemy from unexpected corridors or even taint the minds of the enemy from behind their own lines. During the brutal series of battles on the Imperial world of Fraxus, the Daemon Prince befriended the infamous Raptor Champion Umbal the Duelist. The two fought side by side hundreds of times during the Fraxus Campaign, and spent much time off the field admiring one another's "art".

Vorule the Omnipotent
A powerful Daemon Prince of Slaanesh that began his career of bloody debauchery and vile perversion as a lowly slave child within the ranks of the Emperor's Children Warband known as the Children of the Twisted Lash. The child that would become Vorule was transformed into a Chaos Marine by the age of four, and thus began his rise to daemonhood. At the time, the beast that would become Vorule was known as Kedash. Kedash was a creature of indulgence, like much of the Twisted Lash, but it was his truly ruthless pursuit of such pleasure that marked him as a cut above the rest. In his lust for power and praise, Kedash quickly climbed the ranks of the Warband until he found himself at its head. It was a long and bloody path, but he was certainly not at the end of it. Kedash and his Children would become a byword for terror across the galaxy as they raided and pillaged to feed their masters insatiable appetite for all sorts of luxury. Of these winnings, only the very finest were sacrificed to Slaanesh in honor of the Warbands patronage to the Dark Prince. So dedicated and vile was Kedash that he was given the ultimate gift of Chaos. Following his greatest act of debauchery, the infamous Sacking of Rume, Kedash ascended to the vaunted position of daemonhood, and with his ascension was reborn. No longer was he Kedash the Lashbearer, now he would be known as Vorule, the Omnipotent.

With his immortality and near godlike power secured, Vorule took his Warband on a celebratory campaign throughout the River of Exiles, searching for a world to call his own. It was several years before the Daemon Prince found a world to his liking, a simple but beautiful world known as Nosta. Vorule and his Children descended upon the planet like locust, hunting the primitive natives down and enslaving them. With the tribes of Nosta, Vorule built great cities in his honor, and forced the native people to live within them, forever bowing to his debauched rule. For the next millenia, Vorule and his Children of the Twisted Lash reveled within their cities, their lifestyles of indolence and gluttony kept possible by the labor of millions of slaves. For eons they lorded over Nosta and her neighboring worlds. But then the Storm came.

The Blackspawn brothers, intent on capturing this world for its strategic location, launched a massive assault upon Vorule's domain. Though the Omnipotent one and his Warband were not weaklings, eons of debauchery had made them soft, whereas the Storm Draugar had never known such indolence. Vorule was in the end betrayed by the mercenaries he had hired to supplement his waning forces, and was slain by Malak Blackspawn in personal combat.

But this was far from the end of Vorule the Omnipotent and his Children of the Twisted Lash. The surviving members of the Warband fled deep into the River of Exiles, towards the galactic center. There, on the bleak world of Straga II, they bided their time. The Warband marshaled its forces, and licked its wounds, awaiting their masters return. In M40, they successfully summoned back to the material plane their lord and master, Vorule the Omnipotent lived once more. And now he had a vendetta.

The Word Bearers
Enemies since the end of the Horus Heresy, there are many reasons that the Storm Draugar are despised by the most pious of the Dark Gods legion. The Draugar's senior most members were faithless worms that abandoned the Heresy, in fact, even those from the Word Bearers' own ranks who had the audacity to question their faith! As a result, the Word Bearers dealt the Storm Draugar a savage blow during the Siege of Lupercal's Folly. A force led by three prominent Dark Apostles assaulted Lupercal's Folly with all the might they could muster, and savaged the Storm Draugar to near annihilation. It was only the infernal systems of the fortress itself and the death of the Dark Apostle Nethruias the Black that eventually drove back the Word Bearer's forces. Afterwards the Storm Draugar were forced to recoup for well over a several centuries, licking their wounds in the depths of their fortress. Ever since then the Storm Draugar have been sworn foes of the Word Bearers and their allied Warbands, but are cautious in their actions against them, only striking at smaller Warbands and poorly defended backwaters under their control.

While the Word Bearers are a force truly terrible, they are large and their enemies are many. The Storm Draugar, for all their bluster and bravado, are but one of a thousand other irreverent fools that dare the wrath of the Legion. And of these fools, the Storm Draguar are seen as the most lowly, made up of vagabonds and outcasts. Also considering the Legions mighty victory against the Storm Draugar during the Siege of Lupercal's Folly, most of the Word Bearers commanders consider it beneath themselves to deal any further with the likes of the Storm Draugar. Thus, the Word Bearers have yet to mass their forces against the Storm Draugar, but lesser Warbands allied to the Legion regularly go after the Blackspawns as a means of seeking favor, for the irreverent must be punished, and he who manages to slay both Blackspawns would be a venerated servant of the Dark Gods indeed.

The Space Wolves
Ever since the bloody battle of Htoh and the death of Wolf Lord Herald Frosthide, the Space Wolves, specifically the battle brothers of the 4th Great Company, have sworn to a bloody vendetta against the Blackspawn brothers and their damnedable Storm Draugar.

The Space Wolves see the Storm Draugar as utter savages, lower than even the Tratior Legions they spawned from. They hold them as barbarians, pirates, bastard heretics or the lowest possible order. However, those elder members of the 4th Great Company know well what the Storm Draugar are capable of, and are weary of underestimating them.

The Black Legion
It is little surprise that the Storm Draugar have no love for the Legion they once served, and they care even less for the self proclaimed "Warmaster of Chaos". The Blackspawns served under and alongside Abaddon during the Great Crusade. Then they respected him, if only for his stellar combat abilities and charisma as a leader. But that respect turned to hate when Abaddon orchestrated the assault on the Blackspawns followers during their flight from the Heresy, which later turned to mockery when they learned of his cowardly retreat at the death of Horus. Malak has sworn that should the Despoiler ever enter the River of Exiles, he would have to contend with the full might of the Storm Draugar. Meanwhile Ingar tends to simply remark that he and his brother have "A score to settle," with the Warmaster.

However, it is likely that, if Abaddon and his lieutenants are even aware of the Storm Draugar, they consider them a minor threat at best, hardly worthy of the bolt shells it would take to put down their little renegade band. Especially when the 13th Black Crusade is underway.

Malak Blackspawn
"So loyalists, tell me, does the Emperor still protect?"

- Malak Blackspawn to the corpses of six Astral Claws Space Marines of the 3rd Company after beating them to death with his fists

The mighty Chaos Lord and de facto leader of the Storm Draugar, Malak Blackspawn is a terrifying brute whose sheer power is enough to make lesser Chaos Lords and Daemon Princes tremble. He has slain countless foes and forged a small empire from nothing but the remains of traitors and vagabonds from the old Legions. A great warrior, fearless leader, and impressive tactician, Malak Blackspawn is a Chaos Lord the likes of which few can stand against. He is known most for his sheer size and strength, standing head and shoulders over his own Terminator honor guard and strong enough to kill even other Astartes with his bear hands. Borne of a simple honor, Malak is intent on challenging his foes to personal combat where he may test his skill against the mightiest of his Warbands rival armies. He does not resort to more stealthy or underhanded tactics like his brother, preferring to strike his foe head on.

While usually cool and collected, he has been known to be brash and prone to wrath. Should his foe fight in a manner he deems cowardly or dishonorable, he will only redouble his efforts to butcher them in personal combat, actively casting his bodyguard aside and throwing himself into the enemy's ranks.

Malak is armed with his great Relic Blade known as Vanquisher, and his wrist mounted Possessed Volkite Serpentas, ''Smite and Scour. ''

Ingar Blackspawn
"Fools, you attacked knowing full well that I had foreseen this development. Faith has blinded each and every one of you. To the truth. To the nature of all creation. Though now, perhaps you would wish it would blind you to the end?"

- Ingar Blackspawn to a group of captured Dauntless Angels Space Marines following the Fall of Murbella

Ingar Blackspawn is the Chief Sorcerer of the Storm Draugar and the de-facto second in command of the Warband alongside his elder brother. Endowed with a supreme intellect and ruthless demeanor, Ingar Blackspawn is often considered the true power behind Malak's throne. Though such an assumption would be wrong, as Ingar shares equal status with his brother, and Malak painfully reminds any foolish enough to assume his younger brother is merely his second. Ingar's cunning and supreme psychic powers make him just as, if not more, dangerous than his mighty brother, with his abilities as a diviner making him both a lethal swordsman and a tactical genius. Thus, while Malak fights head on, Ingar prefers more indirect approaches, carefully orchestrating his enemies demises as opposed to striking at them personally. However, unlike many Sorcerers and polymaths of the Dark Gods, Ingar is more than willing to get his hands dirty if it is practical.

Ingar Blackspawn's wargear consists of his power armor, the Phobos Pattern Bolt Pistol dubbed Severance, and the vicious Xenotech Force Sword, Nirvana. Ingar's powers of divination make him an unmatched combatant, compensating for his comparative lack of martial skill when compared to the likes of his brother. He can strike where his foe is most exposed, and can evade with almost supernatural grace. His bolt pistol, though comparatively humble, is a tool of unmatched devastation when every shot is directed by a mind that can see into the future. Ingar is also defended by his twin retinue of highly trained Aspiring Sorcerers, Hane and Dauma, and his deadly Gargoyle Daemon Engine familiar, Súile Oíche.

Collus
"Perhaps you should have challenged my lord instead... he would have killed you much faster."

- Collus as he strangles Chaos Lord Chadan the Defiler

An ancient and infamous Chaos Marine, Collus once served alongside the Despoiler himself in the Great Crusade, and fought fervently for the glory of the Warmaster during the Horus Heresy. He and Malak would become close comrades during the Great Crusade, though Collus was not of Cthonian blood, he had earned Malaks brotherhood when the two stood side by side against Ork forces during the Siege of Gurtan. Eventually the two would forge a close friendship, regularly fighting side by side. However, unlike his friend, Collus followed at Horus' side after the Istvaan Massacres. He did not fault Malak for following his brothers premonitions, as he knew the bond between the two was stronger than any cause, but Collus felt his duty was to the Legion and Primarch. That being said, he did not take part in the vicious raid on the Blackspawn brothers and their defectors when Abaddon gave the order.

Collus was at Horus Lupercal's side when the Emperor smote him, he saw Abaddon, a warrior he once respected, turn tail and flee... he saw the Sons of Horus die on that day. But he would be damned if he stayed long enough to see it renamed the Black Legion. Just before he abandoned the Legion for the River of Exiles, Collus openly spoke against Abaddon, calling him a weakling and a fool, saying that he let the Warmaster die in vain and that he was a disgrace to the blood of their Primarch.

Collus single-handedly fought his way to the River of Exiles, dodging the newly founded Inquisition, killing loyalists left and right, he finally limped his way into the River of Exiles aboard a crippled cargo ship. Collus drew what he felt would be his last breaths as he succumbed to his wounds, the bodies of an Inquisitor and a group of Ultramarines his only companions. When he awoke however, he saw a familiar form looming over him.

In spite of the fact that Collus did not join Malak when he first abandoned the Heresy, the Chaos Lord held no ill will against his old friend. However, the Malak that Collus knew was no more, the brute that stood before him had found patronage under the banner of the dark and cunning gods, and had become far more prone to anger than ever before. Regardless, Collus was once again amongst warriors he could be proud of, true sons of Horus.

Collus is an aged and very experienced Legionary, a natural leader as well as a very deadly combatant. He acts as Malak's second, leader of his honor guard and trusted banner bearer for the First Storm. The nature of his banner, known only as the Black Banner, alone is a sign of his status. Once the chosen standard of the First Company of the Luna Wolves and later the Sons of Horus, Collus stole this relic when he fled the Legion, taking with him perhaps the final spark of what remained of the old Legion. This mighty, flowing banner is a symbol for all the old legionary stands for, honor, duty, and stalwart fury.

Clad in his ancient suit of Cataphractii Terminator armor, and brandishing his Power Axe and Volkite Charger, Collus is an awe inspiring sight to behold on the battlefield. Though not as imposing as his master, Collus' mere presence calls the minds of veterans back to the days of the Great Crusade, when the legions were mighty and their foes broke before them. And to the young ones who did not have the privilege to fight during the Heresy, he is an inspiration. On his back he proudly bears the Black Banner, which doubles as a Teleportation Beacon, so that he may summon his bothers to his side at a whim.

Hane and Dauma
"One cut." "Two cut." "Three cut." "Four." "So many cuts." "Such a fuss." "So little blood left to pour."

- Hane and Dauma, reciting a childhood poem as they cut down a Revealers Tactical Squad

Hane and Dauma are twin Chaos Marine Aspiring Sorcerers who were originally captured and trained by a strange cult upon the Space Hulk Fervent Despair. However, once the two potent psykers had learned to control their powers at a rudimentary level, they managed to escape, hijacking a valuable voidcraft and escaping via a blind Warp jump. For three weeks the two simply drifted about in deep space until a scouting craft from the 5th Storm discovered them. They were immediately inducted into the Warband and survived to become full Chaos Space Marines. The duo forged a name for themselves and eventually came to the attention of the Warbands Chief Sorcerer, Ingar Blackspawn. Ingar procured the two, and began to train them as his protégés, but he never divulged all of the arcane secrets he knew. Thus the two are his personal bodyguards and assist him in complex rituals.

Both Hane and Dauma are cold and quiet beings, likened by some to be similar to servitors. However the truth of the matter is far more unnerving. The twins are supremely analytical, both possessed of eidetic memories and sinister humors. They watch and relay what they can to their master, allowing Ingar to know the peculiarities of any being he may encounter. They speak only when bidden to do so by their master or his brother, and rarely do they remark between themselves in anything other than esoteric nursery rhymes or jests. However, if one were to listen closely, they would hear both cackle and breath heavily when time comes for combat or blood rituals.

Hane and Dauma are both sadistic and are extremely deadly with their dark powers. Both are well versed in daemonology. Hane prefers the discipline of Telekinesis, rending the foe apart and tossing them to the wind with his very mind. Meanwhile his twin Dauma is a dangerous Biomancer, boiling blood and twisting flesh and bone in horrific ways. Hane is armed with a tainted Power Halberd and a custom made Grav-Pistol, while Dauma bears a vicious Chain Glaive along with a bolt pistol and a set of Plague Grenades.

Ataxerxes Doomloins
"THE FRUIT OF THE DOOMLOINS IS DESTRUCTION!"

- Ataxerxes

Ataxerxes was once a member of the Iron Hands whose pursuit of cybernetic perfection went too far in the eyes of his former battle brothers. Consigned to be recycled for parts, he managed to escape death at the cost of his arms. After years of traveling alone, selling his monstrous power to the highest bigger, he was eventually picked up by the Storm Draugar on the black ash wastes of Arkanak after they witnessed him singlehandedly slay the infamous Khornate Chaos Lord, Triblood Ironclaw, and his warband of fifty Berzerkers single handedly. So impressed were the Draugar that they offered Ataerxes a place amongst their foul renegade ranks.

Ataxerxes is a loud and proud individual, never failing to be the center of attention. He wants the galaxy to know the glory that is Ataxerxes Doomloins, Destroyer of Noggins, Debaser of Faces, King of the Curbstomp. He stands tall, with a spring in his step and a murderous glimmer in his beady bionic eyes. Such an attitude has seen Ataxerxes make the Proving Grounds his home on Lupercal's Folly, where he regularly thrashes both beasts, captured warriors, and unfortunate would be Astartes with his mighty thrusts. Thus his fellow Storm Draugar are both in awe and terrified of Ataxerxes, usually letting him take the field alone. Ataxerxes has no qualms with this, for taking to the field alone means all the more glory for himself. Thus, Ataxerxes is the most mighty of the Storm Draugar's various Champions, virtually undefeated and held by both the Blackspawn Brothers and their Draugar Lords as the greatest warrior they can call to the battlefield. When Ataxerxes Doomloins takes to the field, all know that the end has surely come.

Doomloins strides high above his fellow Draugar upon an armored pair of Sentinel legs, his torso encased in a corrupted suit of Centurion Armor, thrusting the brobdingnagian bulk of his body upon his foes. His signature kills involve using massive sword-length spikes of his massive codpiece to shatter the skulls of loyalist lackeys. However, the rest of Ataxerxes' spiked bulk is more than capable of killing with ease, his vox caster mounted Flamer and chest mounted Hurricane Bolter, combined with his wrecking ball esque shoulder pads, forming a formidable arsenal.

Krysis the Crimson Storm
"With me my brothers, we shall wreak divine havoc upon the infidels!"

- Krysis leading a his Berzerkers forward

Also known as the Crimson Storm, Lord of the Cult of the Eight-Fold Path, and the Blood Bat, Krysis savage berzerker borne of the infamous Night Lords. A fanatic devotee of Khorne and the foremost berzerker of the Warband, Krysis was once known as Zaminel, a young whelp of the Night Lords, taken directly from Nostramo's teaming ranks of criminal scum. Though Zaminel was exceptional at sewing terror and fear, he was considered too dim witted and blood hungry to ever be a "true" Night Lord. Disdained by his Primarch, as many of the newer Legionaries were, and constantly put down by his senior peers who saw him as a pawn and little more, Zaminel joined the then legendary Blackspawn brothers in their abandonment of the Heresy. During the Warbands sojourn into the Maelstrom, Zaminel was seduced by the power of the Dark Gods and became a self styled warrior priest of Khorne. Thus reborn in his faith in the Blood God, Zaminel took up the mantel of Krysis the Crimson Storm, a title of daemonic heritage to show his utter devotion to the Lord of Skulls. Now Krysis is a powerful warrior, using both the terror tactics of his old Legion and the berserk fury of his zeal to show all those who doubted him just how mighty he could become without their weakness holding him back.

Now blessed by the Blood God with powerful martial skill which is in turn greatly enhanced by millennium of combat experience, the one who was tauntingly called whelp in his own Legion is now respected and feared in the Storm Draugar Warband. Marshaling his reputation, Krysis has called to his side the most fearsome berzerkers of the Warband, calling them his "Bloody Congregation". He leads this blood mad cult of Khornate Berzerkers and savage cultists as a wild hound leads its pack, always an example of unfettered fury and rage, always at the fore of the churning tide of glorious war.

In battle Krysis is always clad in his terrifying Power Armor, adorned with the corpses of fallen foes, the ancient Night Lords thunderbolt heraldry now turned a bloody crimson and black, flanked by a cadre of hand picked Berzerkers. He bears his double sided Chain Glaive, Blood Bolt, and wrist mounted Hand Flamer into battle, wreaking what he calls "Divine Havoc" amongst the enemies ranks. Through his bloody proselytizing, he has been blessed with the Mark of Khorne, granting him power and wrath far above most other warriors. Ruthless and utterly psychotic, Krysis is the picture of a raving fanatic, his zealous fury to crush all of the galaxy's infidel races and empires completely consuming his being.

Mahdiler the Pale
"Obcisor is ready, as am I."

- Mahdiler inspecting his Power Claw before riding into battle

A specter of doom on the battlefield, Mahdiler the Pale is also known as the Pale Knight, the Swift Shroud, and the Horror Blade of Umdran. Mahdiler is a Chaos Marine Assault Biker and blessed recipient of the putrid Mark of Nurgle. No one knows where Mahdiler came from, his legion or chapter of origin, nor his history before he was discovered on Umdran by the 1st Storm. He was encountered on the killing fields of Umdran, alone save for his ancient assault bike. His armor bore no markings, simply being a pallid white adorned with rotting skulls as plague grenades. He joined the Warband following the planets eventual destruction, the Blackspawns deeming him worthy. Mahdiler had not even a name until joining the Storm Draugar, owing his current title to Malak Blackspawn. In ancient Cthonian, a Mahdiler was an elite enforcer, usually the leader of a techno-barbarian death squad. They were feared and dreaded individuals, from whom escape was rumored to be impossible.

As a being marked by Nurgle, Mahdiler is gifted with unholy endurance and his weapons are blessed with dreadful pestilence. He has yet to become a true Plague Marine, but many know that such a blessing is only a matter of time. Upon his Assault bike, he has slain a great many foes, both Champion and lowly infantryman. With bolters, bolt pistol, and vicious power claw Obcisor, he has achieved such feats as the slaying of Warsmith Vulmer, the assassination famous Autarch Sebin of Craftwlord Ke'Lan, and the slaughter of Lord Militant Gregory Pattz. This has earned him a small following in the form of a cadre of fellow Assault Bikers, who too have embraced Nurgle's vile love.

As a Champion of the Warband, Mahdiler can be found wherever battle is to be, and a great deal of death can be sewn. He strikes like an airborne pathogen, suddenly and without warning, leaving a sicking aura of dread in his wake. His very strike has been the death of entire armies, men routing in fear as their commanders were cut down in the wake of Obcisor and plague grenades made of the heads of fallen foes. Mahdiler rides atop his charnel steed Shroud, a warbike covered in great spikes with which to impale those who dare stand in the Pale Knight's path. Many of the corpses have been left to rot, creating a gruesome and foul smelling visage that makes Mahdiler all the more terrifying to his foes.

Umbal the Duelist
"It seems you have bested my men. Impressive, I must say. Such valorous blood will certainly produce a fine painting! En Garde!"

- Umbal prior to slaying a Grey Knight

The Corpse Painter of Elysum, the Marauder of Maiden Souls, the Quickblade of Nosta, all these and many more black titles are held by the Raptor known as Umbal the Duelist. It is said that he was born with the Mark of Slaanesh upon him, the result of a union between a powerful cult leader and an unknown companion. (some fearfully whisper that he is of daemon blood) Umbal was born a slave to the infamous Emperor's Children, but due to his birth mark, was immediately forged into a Chaos Marine. He rapidly rose through the ranks, becoming an astute Raptor, sewing terror and death with his sonic screeches and impeccable swordsmanship. Yet he was not content to stay indolent with the Legion, and left its ranks of his own accord to find greater excitement on the field of war.

As the Dark Gods would have it, Umbal stumbled across the Storm Draugar in his travels as a sell-sword to the forces of Chaos. He was hired by the Daemon Prince Vorule the Omnipotent to assassinate Malak Blackspawn on the world of Nosta. Though Umbal struck with surprise and allies on his side, he was still bested by the hulking Chaos Lord. Most would be outraged, but Umbal had never felt defeat, none in the Legion had ever bested him in a duel of blades. Such an experience was completely new, and to Umbal, exhilarating. Malak Blackspawn impressed him greatly, and thus, Umbal pledged his body and blade to the Storm Draugar. He was essential to the success of the siege of the Daemon Prince's palace, leading a band of Raptors to slaughter the guards at the walls and throw open the gates for the Greatest of Draugar Lords himself.

Umbal is now a famed Raptor Champion of the Warband, whose skill with a blade is unparalleled by any Chaos Marine in the Warband. It is said that Umbal handles his power sword as an artist handles a brush. An apt comparison, as Umbal himself is an avid painter. The walls of his sizable quarters aboard the Strike Cruiser Nemesis is beautifully painted with vivid depictions of glorious battles and scenes of the galaxy. One would most certainly suspect Umbal to be quite skilled in the the art, but the infamous Duelist would state that the most key element to his work is the materials used. Brushes from the softest animal hides, canvas made of long extinct plants or finely tanned human skin, and paint made of the blood of the finest virgin maidens in all the Galaxy.

Umbal's weapons of choice are his Power Sword Elegance, and his Plasma Pistol, ''Symmetry. ''Umbal also has his ancient Jump Pack and Raptor Helmet, which amplifies his battlecries to the point where they can knock humans to the ground. Umbal's Power Armor has been uniquely blessed by Slaanesh, its surface forever morphing in an endless cascade of vivid color. Strange symbols and images occasionally float to the surface, and when Umbal is in a battle frenzy, the imagery becomes terrifying to those who bear witness to it. It is impossible for one to look away, and it is said that the armor puts Umbal's foes off balance, a deadly thing when facing a blade master such as himself.

Umbal is a bitter rival with the infamous Noise Champion known as Vermorta the Screamer. Umbal considers the bastard seeded mutant little more than a bombastic savage, fueled by drugs and under the thrall of daemonic weaponry. A true champion of Slaanesh is one who seeks utter perfection in all things, and to become indolent on mere sensation alone is to throw away Slaanesh's gifts of obsession and purpose.

Umbal is also locked in an unending feud with the powerful daemonette known as Leshta the Man Eater, whose constant meddling and kill thievery has caused him no small frustration. He finds the pompous and self absorbed little daemon to be a severe irritant that he wishes to flay alive with his blade. However, he also fantasizes about what a beautiful painting he could create with he blood of a deamon, slowly bled out from a still live body.

Vermorta the Screamer
"Yessssss... Bring the noise."

- Vermorta basking in the bass of his Doom Siren, Screamfiend

A powerful Champion of Slaanesh, Vermorta the Screamer goes by many other black titles, such as the Voice of Perdition, the Call of Ruin, and the Doom Siren of Nellos. Such titles are assuredly deserved, for amongst the ranks of the Storm Draugars Noise Marines, few are as uncompromisingly lethal and depraved as Vermorta. Manic, gluttonous, and ever obsessive, Vermorta is a constantly twitching and cackling hulk of genetically enhanced muscles infused with the most potent combat drugs known to the vile mystics of Chaos. He leads his pack of crazed pleasure seekers through the battle fields of the 41st Millennium, creating a crescendo of violence and pain to slake his bloodlust.

Vermorta was born in the flesh pits of Lupercal's Folly, bred to be the ideal specimen for gene-seeding. However, Vermorta was born with several monstrous flaws. Due to chemical imbalances in his vat while he gestated, an accidental oversight due to a faulty servitor and clumsy maintenance worker, Vermorta's musculature grew almost out of control. Still forming flesh and skin threatened to rip itself apart more than once during his rapid development, and it was only the swift actions of the mad Apothecary, Arnot Menhk, that saved Vermorta's unborn form. Because of this, Vermorta suffers from uncontrollable bouts of spastic twitching, and an overdeveloped musculature, making it almost impossible to control the force with which he applies with his hands. While in most circles, such a creature would be relegated to the ranks of the cultists, Arnot became intrigued by the potential of Vermorta's abhorrent physiology. With his blessing, Vermorta underwent the trials to become a Storm Draugar. It was during these times that the Apothecary discovered that the application of a powerful cocktail of various chemicals and drugs could at least mitigate Vermorta's overactive physiology, allowing the soon to be Chaos Marine a modicum of control over his own body. With his monstrous body under control, Vermorta quickly proved himself nothing short of an ideal specimen. Towering over the other initiates, monstrous muscles bulging and rippling with unnatural force, he easily ripped his competition to shreds with his bear hands. The Vermorta dreaded and feared today began to take shape, being conditioned to take pleasure in violence as every kill activated his surgically implanted auto-injector. With every life he took the constant pain of his writhing body was stripped away, leaving only pure ecstasy. It was also at this time that Vermorta discovered his body could do more than destroy. It could feel, intensely, everything around him. The cool air in the halls of Lupercal's Folly was akin to a stinging blizzard, the warmth from the nearby furnace a scorching inferno, the pale glow-globes instead stinging spheres of brilliance. He slowly learned to take joy in pain as well, for every sensation was one more intense than the last.

By the time he was fully implanted with his bastard gene-seed, hand crafted by Arnot Menhk to best suit his mutant physiology, Vermorta was a monster of such a scale that not even the insidiously wise Apothecary could fully comprehended what he had wrought. On his first deployment, on a minor Hive World known as Vassen Secundus, Vermorta reportedly perpetrated the infamous "Block #12 Massacre" singlehandedly. The crazed Chaos Marine supposedly abandoned his squad in the midst of battle, armed with nothing but a shotgun and a simple combat knife. He wandered the Hive, killing anything that he came across, be they PDF, Guardsmen, or civilians. When his shotgun ran out of ammo, he found a rocket launcher. When that was no more, he used grenades. When those ran out, he resorted to his blade. When that became too dull, he found his hands more than capable. But it was one weapon that changed Vermorta forever. During his rampage, he discovered the remains of a Storm Draugar Noise Marine Squad. Of all their gaudy wargear, one piece in particular called out to him. An ornate Doom Siren, still thrumming with life even after its former master was hewn in half by lasfire. Vermorta felt compelled to don the bewitched relic. It was at that moment that Vermorta finally reached his apex, for at that moment the world was plunged into sensation. Dazzling colors, potent perfumes, overwhelming sensations. But most importantly, the noise. That beautiful, wailing, screaming, roaring noise. He was consumed by it as it washed over his very being, as it swept up his soul in a glorious tidal wave of sensation.

Vermorta was rediscovered by a Storm Draugar armored column, knee deep in the bodies of refugees and guardsmen, surrounded by the smoldering wreckage of what was an evacuation convoy. It was only then that Vermorta realized, solely by omission of his stunned comrades, that he had been behind enemy lines for no less than eight months. Vermorta came to terms with what he was, he was a Noise Marine now, a lustful servant of, as he termed, "The Great Prince of Holy Noise." Since then, he and his Doom Siren, Screamfiend, have sown utter ruin across the stars, blasting out deadly siren calls that surely send scores of beings to their bloody deaths.

Vermorta the Screamer is a powerhouse in battle, his mutant physiology and Screamfiend allowing him to bring death to any who are unlucky enough to fall under his hungry gaze. Armed with the baroque power sword known as Sweet Touch, designed by some of the Draugars finest weaponsmiths, and his elegant bolt pistol, Vermorta kills with a manic hunger and measured sadism that few of his comrades can match. Sweet Touch is a perverse tool of death, drinking deep of the blood of the fallen, and converting that into a sweet ichor within its pommel, which is immediately injected directly into Vermorta's veins with every kill. How this warp tainted blade converts blood into murder inducing drugs is unknown, but its effects on its master are a great boon in battle. Due to his mutant physique, Vermorta is considerably faster and stronger than a Space Marine born of purer blood, this shows in his style of combat. Vermorta was psycho-conditioned for battle, but he lacks much in the way of artful finesse or grace, instead striking like a ravenous animal. He uses his speed and strength to rend his foes limb from limb, their gushing wounds and screaming bringing him great pleasure.

It should be noted that, as rival Champions of Slaanesh, Vermorta the Screamer and Umbal the Duelist have a fierce history of one upmanship. Vermorta considers Umbal to be a preening fool, obsessed with his blade and paints. A true champion of the Great Prince of Holy Noise revels at all times, and cares not for anything but the next rapturous sensation.

Vermorta also takes umbrage from the upstart daemonette, Leshta the Man Eater, finding the daemon to be insufferably smug and competitive. While she is one of Slaanesh's chosen creations, this dose not inspire in Vermorta any less of an urge to blast her smug grin away with Screamfiend.

Emile the Fury
"Yes, scatter like the vermin you are! Flee! Ahahah! FLEE!"

- Brother Emile strafing the trenches of the Valhallan 79th during the infamous Torsoth Raids

Known as the most skilled pilot in the ranks of the Storm Draugar, Brother Emile, also known as Emile the Fury or simply The Fury, is a devastating terror on the battlefield. Alone, he pilots the Storm Draugars last remaining Fire Raptor Gunship, Firebreed, bringing swift death and ruin from above with her twin linked Avenger Bolt Cannons and dual Reaper Autocannons.

Emile is a young star in the Warband, created from the flesh pits of Lupercal's Folly with the singular destiny to serve the Blackspawn Brothers. He was found to be ideal for the rigors of Marinehood, and was quickly forced through the regimen devised by the insidious Warpsmith, Hurlok Zahz. Within a few short years, Emile was a fully fledged Chaos Marine of the Storm Draugar, forged in madness and perversion, molded by cruelty and hatred, and driven by the burning blood of the Iron Warriors and World Eaters in his gene-seed. Early in his career, Emile showed a preference for ranged combat, joining the ranks of the Havocs. Armed with but a simple autocannon, Emile racked up a small but noteworthy tally over the course of his first half century.

However, Emile lusted for greater excitement, and found it in even greater and mightier weapons. Soon he moved from the ranks of the Havocs to those of the Warbands pilots and mechanical experts. Such technology enthralled him, armed with weapons of great scale and devastating power. But most attractive was the raw speed and power of the Warbands aerial fleet. Thunderhawks and Storm Ravens, loaded with the might of their arsenals, were the subject of his obsessions. He quickly proved himself an adept pilot, transporting his battle brothers to the battle field and laying down withering barrages from the Thunderhawk known by its simple call sign, ''Savage 3. ''For another trial of half a century, Emile proved himself to be one of the Warbands finest pilots, preforming a long list of daring and villainous feats. From the infamous Spire #242 Massacre, to the Battle of Pa'Voi, the enemies of the Storm Draugar learned to fear the skies. But it was not until the Campaign of Slaughter that he was recognized as worthy for his current position. During that crusade across the Tarthis Sub-Sector, Brother Emile scored a mighty tally of kills against both ground targets of the Lightbringers Chapter and local Guard forces and aerial targets over the skies of Hive Terdon and Agri World Sollon.

Such exemplary and bloody handed feats did not go unrewarded. The insidious Warpsmith, Hurlok Zahz, had plans for the young ace. Emile was commended for his feats following the Campaign of Slaughter, and granted the highest honor that could be bestowed upon such a burgeoning pilot. With the Warpsmith's blessing, Emile was granted the right to pilot Firebreed, the Warband's sole Fire Raptor Gunship. Prior to his first deployment with his new steed, Emile underwent various bionic enhancements at the hands of Zahz himself, enhancing his already super human reflexes and targeting skills. These enhancements also allowed Emile to neurally link with Firebreed, making the gunship an extension of his will while he piloted it.

However, during his first deployment, something unexpected befell the young astartes. Firebreed's Machine Spirit had long been corrupted by the influences of the Warp, and had become self aware. With a malicious and bloodthirsty cunning, she attempted to take control of Emile's mind during the Invasion of Creed Majorus. The battle of wills was waged for but a bare span of seconds, but the result would bind the two entities together. Though unsuccessful in overtaking Emile's mind, Firebreed would become linked with his consciousness, the two becoming one in a sense. Now the Gunship could speak telepathically to its new pilot, and Emile could command his vessel even if he were not in the cockpit.

Over the eons, the two would bond as comrades, Firebreed always hungry for blood and battle, and Emile always willing to oblige. Together they dominate the skies, slaying all who oppose them with near impunity. Firebreed is outfitted with her deadly aresneal of nose mounted twin-linked Avenger Bolt Cannons and side mounted twin-linked Reaper Autocannons. She is also blessed by the exalted mark of Tzeetch, which grants her weapons even greater power as they burn through armor and rend the soul. Emile, meanwhile, is rarely on the field, but on the off chance that he is forced to engage on the ground, he is clad in his scavenged power armor and armed with a bolt pistol and combat knife.

Hurlok Zahz
"You have proven most resilient, Captain Idros, but I would expect nothing less from an Imperial Fist. Pheraps it is now that I explain to you why they call my maul Knucklebreaker."

- Hurlok Zahz prior to slaying Captain Idros of the Imperial Fists 8th Company

A powerful warrior and unfathomable intellect, Hulok Zahz is the Master Warpsmith of the Storm Draugar. Responsible for keeping the Warbands other Warpsmiths and Hereteks in line, as well as spearheading the research and development of various weapons and technologies. Hurlok Zahz was once an honored Tech-Marine of the Iron Warriors Legion, but abandoned the Legion to pursue his interests. The study of the entities of the Warp and the ways of the machine have always been key subjects for Hurlok. But most of all he is vexed by the implications these forces can have on mortal flesh. Already he has made great strides in his chosen fields, creating a vast array of cybernetic horrors and mutant monstrosities. His creations include the deadly daemon engines of the Warband, and the dreaded Flesh Pits, of which he is most proud.

Hurlok Zahz joined the Storm Draugar in the bloody aftermath of the Siege of Lupercal's Folly, drawn to the Storm Draugar by tales of the great star fortress. He longed to study the arcane technologies and wonder weapons of the great fortress, and was more than willing to abandon his Legion in order to get this rare opportunity. In regard to the recent losses the Warband had suffered, the Storm Draugar accepted Hurlok into their ranks, and allowed him full access to the fortress. For years Hurlok Zahz studied the ancient halls and systems of Lupercal's Folly, slowly unraveling her secrets. However, it was not long before the Warpsmith became complacent in his position, growing slowly bored with the archotech he studied. It was only when the first cases of daemonic possession began to occur within the Storm Draugar themselves that Hurlok Zahz would find his true passions, Daemonolgy, and biotechnology. The effects of daemons and heretek cybernetics upon the superhuman flesh of an Astartes was awe inspiring to Hurlok. Such rapid changes lethal adaptations were astonishing to him. And later, when the technologies of Daemon Engines became known to him, Hurlok's interest became an obsession. He had resolved to harness the power of the Warp and its denizens in the endeavor to craft the perfect weapons. He devoted all of his time and considerable resources on transforming the arcane research labs of Lupercal's Folley into what would become his masterwork and legacy, the infamous Flesh Pits of Lupercal's Folly. With this massive laboratory, Hurlok Zahz delved into dark and profain sciences, gathering a vast following of like minded madmen as he went. Great horrors were constructed, small armies grown, great beasts of steel and hellfire forged. Soon all would know of the Storm Draugar and their mad Fleshsmith, he who crafted monsters, he who forged the daemon engines, he who fueled the murderous ranks of the Storm Draugar.

Eventually, Zahz would find a like mind with the Chaos Apothecary, Arnot Menhk of the World Eaters. Together, they would go on to found the Firi Arsa, and the labs of the Flesh Pits would come alive with ceaseless activity and horrific research. Together these madmen had rebirthed the cult of the old Gene-Worshipers who once ruled Lupercal's Folly, and ushered in a reign of perversion and horror the likes of which has seldom been surpassed.

Though Zhaz is not well known for his skill in battle, his eons of experience and genius mind make him a force to be reckoned with on the field of war. Not to mention the force of his abominable creations which inevitably accompany him. Chief amongst these pets is the brute Leviathan, a great Maulerfiend who is ruthless in the persecution of its master's enemies. Zhaz need not be shadowed by his vile companion however, armed with his great array of Mechadendrites and his mighty Daemon Maul Knucklebreaker, even if he was caught without a machine to command or a band of Chaos Marines to defend him, he can still be a force few can hope to overcome.

As he is such a powerful and vital member of the Warband, Hurlok Zahz often finds himself attached to whatever Storm he fancies. Thus he is likely to be encountered by foes during engagements revolving around arcane technology or strange daemonic artifacts.

Arnot Menhk
"Hmm, a chainsword here, a bolter there... yes, yes... it's all coming together. Oh, and get rid of the head, I have a suitable replacement."

- Arnot Menhk

Even the mightiest of the Storm Draugar speak in whispers about Arnot Menhk, the mad butcher of the Firi Arsa and contemporary of Hurlok Zahz. Where Zhaz is a careful, measured scientist who methodically manipulates flesh and machine, Arnot is a dangerous madman who regularly desecrates the humanoid form with reckless abandon.

Once an Apothecary of the World Eaters, Arnot Menhk made a name for himself during the Horus Heresy with his mad bionic operations and attempts into what he termed "gene-therapy" or purposely cultivating weaponized mutations within the World Eaters ranks. True to the nature of the World Eaters, he worked only to make his Battle-Brothers all the more deadly, replacing damaged limbs with chainaxes and flamers, augmenting hands and feet into rending talons and roaring chain claws, even trying to enhance and modify the Butcher's Nails. However, his gene-therapy offered the most intriguing results, crafting mutant monstrosities far stronger and more savage than any of their unmodified brothers. While some considered his work genius, most of the Legion saw his perversions as utter abominations and horrendous wastes of gene-seed. He only narrowly escaped death at the hands of his Battle-Brothers during the Istvaan III Atrocity, and defected with the Blackspawns following the bloody work of the Drop Site Massacre.

For many years he was the Storm Draugar's only Apothecary, and was begrudgingly forced to put his more eccentric experiments and augmentations on hold as the Blackspawns could scarcely afford to lose any gene-seed to any of his mad gene-therapy sessions. However, as the Warband grew and more madmen and cast offs joined, he would find his eccentricities indulged as equally eccentric Chaos Marines requested his augments and gene-therapy. He soon became known for his fearfully deadly bionic enhancements and ability to craft deadly mutant appendages, but it was only when his soon to be collaborator Hurlok Zahz arrived that his work became something more than simple augments and mild genetic perversions.

Together, the two rediscovered the ancient research of the old gene-cult of Lupercal's Folly, and refounded it as the infamous Firi Arsa. With his colleague's influence, and the now complete Flesh Pits, he was once again allowed to explore the limits of the Space Marine form. He plied his skills, perfecting his art of surgical enhancements and crafting gene-seed. It was under Arnot's supervision that the first Flesh Pit Janissaries were born, and he personally crafted the very first Fuil Óga with his own two hands.

But his greatest achievement was the first Flesh Pit Behemoth, Rudgadh or "Firstborn". He created this beast after hours of battling with its shifting flesh and warping bone, with nothing but his loyal band of chirurgeons. Eventually the beast he crafted from what would have been a mere Chaos Spawn was a hulking monstrosity easily half the size of an Imperial Knight. And after the beast was rendered into a stable form, he worked with Hurlok Zahz to mount various weapons and cybernetic augmentations to its already formidable frame. After Rudgadh was created, the basic methodology of creating Flesh Pit Behemoths spread throughout the Firi Arsa, thus paving the way for more of these base abominations.

Arnot Menhk occasionally joins battle with the Storms when rare genetic material can be gained or his bloodlust from the Butcher's Nails firmly embedded into his brain cannot be slaked with bloody surgery. When he does take to the field, it is usually upon the back of his great creation, Rudgadh. From atop his monstrous beast, Arnot Menhk strikes with his vicious Fury Bolter or his savage Teeth of the Dragon, the infamous set of techno-organic jaws attached to a spiked chain, which Arnot flings at his foes with unyielding accuracy.

Geudan the Vanquished
"To me, slaves of the false Emperor! To your doom!"

- Geduan charging the ranks of the Imperial Guard on Theris VI

A deadly Chaos MkIV Dreadnought kept chained within the blackest pits of Lupercal's Folly when none of the Storms are in need of his might, Geudan the Vanquished is a hulking avatar of annihilation feared and hated in equal measure. Geudan was once an Astartes in his prime, a more potent example of the Storm Draugars unrelenting brutality and might not seen since Malak himself. However, Geudan was also a ruthless opportunist, lusting for power and influence. To this end he became Lord Murdok's enforcer and chief assassin during the infamous Reign of Iron. For hundreds of years, Geudan executed the ruthless and paranoid will of the Iron Lord, his Thunder Hammer often falling upon the heads of fellow Battle Brothers without mercy.

Though often the target of innumerable assassination attempts, Geduan seemed to be nigh unkillable, having survived wounds that should have, by all rights, killed him outright. One particularly infamous exampled was the ill fated Thradis Ambush, when two full squads of Raptors, their ringleader knowing he was marked for death for his involvement in the Brotherhood of Folly, fell upon Geduan and his cadre of Fuil Óga during a routine raid. The ambush took place within the recently scoured confines of a warehouse, where the Raptors struck from the rafters above. Geduan reportedly emerged the sole survivor of the melee, a knife in his neck and what remained of the Raptor Champion held by the throat.

For his loyalty, the Iron Lord rewarded Geudan with status and power, and some believe he would have one day borne the mantel of Draugar Lord. However, the coup by the Brotherhood of Folly, bolstered by the sudden reappearance of the Blackspawn Brothers, swept such ambitions out from under Geudan. During the final siege of the Iron Lord's citadel, Geudan made the faithful decision to betray his liege, knowing that the only thing that would slake his enemies lust for blood was Lord Murdok's head. However, it was in this moment that Geudan's famous resilience failed him, and he was struck down by Lord Murdok in a pitched melee.

However, Geudan did not die, instead he remained crippled by his wounds as the Brotherhood of Folly stormed the citadel, a revived Malak Blackspawn leading the charge. When the Greatest of Draugar Lords personally kicked in the iron doors to Lord Murdok's throne room, he saw the ruined bodies of the Iron Lord's bodyguard. Amidst the wreckage lay Geudan, all but resigned to death. However, the Blackspawn loyalist and founder of the Brotherhood of Folly, Brother Rasputin, had other designs. As punishment for Geudan's fratricidal career and loyal support of the Iron Lord, the Old Wolf had him imprisoned within the shell of a Dreadnought, the very same he still inhabits millennia later.

Geudan is a shattered wreck of his former self, his ambitions cut out from underneath him by what he sees as a cruel twist of fate, he now vents his bitter wrath upon mankind, his massive Power Fist with an integral Flamer and Reaper Autocannon doling out his vengeance on all who dare stand before this titan of hatred and admantium. Though mocked by various upstarts within the Warband when he is in stasis or out of earshot, Geudan is given a wise amount of respect when he is on the field, for, unlike so many Chaos Dreadnoughts, he has maintained some modicum of sanity and is completely aware of his position, and has little patience for any mortal that crosses him, be he friend or foe. Being the avatar of destruction he is, Geudan has had a small cult spring up around him. This cult, known as the Chosen of Geudan, fight alongside their lord with a savage tenacity that has earned them special mention more than once within the Storm Draugar's ranks. When the Vanquished is not on the field of war, his cult and their leader, the mad Heretek Sorceress Griffin, maintain his form within their shrine deep within the bowels of Lupercal's Folly.

Leshta the Man Eater
"Yummy..."

- Leshta's catchphrase

A cunning predator in the guise of a lithe temptress, Leshta is a Daemonette like no other. Sadistic, possessive, and vain to a fault, at first one would merely pass her off as little different from the ruthless pack of five other Daemonettes that follow her every command. But then one would discount how truly ruthless Leshta is. Otherworldly lust drives her insane gluttony, for she is obsession manifest, mad hunger and sadistic whims made flesh and bone. To this end, Leshta's flawless master has blessed her with the ability to slake her hunger, if only for a time.

Leshta was first encountered by the Storm Draugar during the ending days of the Cornelius Sub-Sector campaign, summoned by Ingar and his cabal of scorcerous minions to support the Warband against the Vostroyan 43rd during the Battle for Sentinel Prime alongside several other packs of daemons from the other three Chaos Gods. Determined not to be outdone by the minions of her lords rivals, Leshta committed her fellows to the front lines with all due haste, instinct drawing her alongside the ranks of Umbal the Duelist and Vermorta the Screamer, who were engaged in a brutal contest to slay the most of the Emperor's faithful. Little did they expect Leshta to leap into battle before them, gracefully scything down scores of guardsmen with her twin daggers. But it was what she managed with her unique gifts from Slaanesh himself that most awestruck the Chaos Marines. Sighting a particularly handsome guardsman, Leshta let lose her long, whip like tongue, which stuck like Mechanicus grade epoxy to the guarsman's forehead. With a quick tug, his head was freed from his shoulders, face frozen in a state of abject shock and horror as it plunged down into the daemonettes cavernous maw. Stunned, both Umbal and Vermorta were at a loss for words as Leshta smirked smugly at the pair before continuing her slaughter, easily outpacing the both of them.

Since that day, the young Daemonette has been an all too common sight within the ranks of the Warband, securing her stay in the material realm through various willing daemonhosts and constant feeding upon the flesh for mortals. Many a naive cultist has been swallowed alive to ensure she remains to further upstage the two Champions Umbal and Vermorta, obsessing over the two for reasons unknown. It is likely that she merely finds their mixed jealousy and desire for her entertaining, and that the material realm has so many flavors of sentient being to be digested alive and screaming.

Armed with her flawlessly crafted twin daggers, serpentine maw, and prehensile lash tongue, Leshta is easily one of the most deadly Daemons at the Storm Draugars disposal. She is also the most crafty and well known, having a small cult dedicated to her and the guile to remain within the material realm. Not only is Leshta deadly on the field of war, but her ability to appear human and or possess human bodies allows for a wide variety of subtle roles as well.

Seddrinth the Gifted
"You think me chained mortal? Mark my words, one day, these fetters will shatter. And when that day comes, pray that you have tasted death at the hands of your meager foes. For mine is the vengeance of the End Times."

- Seddrinth the Gifted to Ingar Blackspawn

Once an almighty warlord, the ancient Daemon Prince Seddrinith the Gifted, also known as Kul'Mkahur the Unmaker and more recently as Sinrith the Chained, now serves as a great battle-thrall of the Storm Draugar. Seddrinth was supposedly once a great warrior king of an unremembered world, and after embracing the Dark Gods in a gambit for immortality, came to lead his armies across the galaxy for centuries during the Age of Strife. However, Seddrinth was slain by the God-Emperor's own hand during the Great Crusade, banished to the warp for seven-thousand years.

In M37, Seddrinth the Gifted set foot once again within the realm of mortals, brought forth by a Cult known as the Brotherhood of the Omen on the Hive World of Dur Secundus within the Exile Sector. For sixteen Terran years Seddrinth and his hordes fought against the forces of the Imperium of Man, his cultist fodder and daemon minions managing to hold off the likes of even the Exile Sectors local Sisters of Battle and Space Marine Chapters. Following the Battle of Orditus, it seemed as if Seddrinth the Gifted was poised to utterly lay waste to the Sector, his hordes of fanatic followers and even lesser Daemon Prince lieutenants transforming the Brotherhood of the Omen into a massive warband. But a sudden assault from the River caught the Gifted One off guard, the Storm Draugar, with supporting mercenary elements from the Star Jackals and Vile Blood Warbands, launched a lighting campaign against the Brotherhood, ripping through their newly conquered and poorly consolidated border worlds.

When Seddrinth himself finally faced the Storm Draugar upon the desecrated Cemetery World of Seplchis, he was determined to destroy the impudent leadership of this rabble and bring their forces into his fold. Instead, Seddrinth was defeated in battle by none other than Ingar Blackspawn, and bound by his foul magiks to the will of the Storm Draugar. Bound in chains forged of Warpstone and unholy hell iron, Seddrinth the Gifted found his power restrained and his will bound to that of his captor. With his prize in hand, Ingar Blackspawn left with the defeated Daemon Prince in tow, leaving the Brotherhood to collapse into anarchy without its sacred demagogue. The Brotherhood of the Omen was subsequently destroyed by Imperial forces within the course of two years, the lesser princes turning against one another without the iron fist of Seddrinth to keep them in line.

Now, the Gifted One serves as a potent engine of war, a weapon to be summoned from his prison within the Warp onto the field of battle on the side of the Storm Draugar. Though an unwilling thrall, Seddrinth nonetheless relishes in combat, and reluctantly obeys the commands of the warband's sorcerers... for now. In battle, Seddrinth's form is terrfying to behold. Clad in ancient Warp-Forged Armor, bound in the black rune inscribed chains, borne across the battlefield upon sinewy wings, and bearing four great muscular arms, Seddrinth is a beast the likes of which make mortal beings quake in their boots. Within each of his four arms Seddrinth bears a weapon of utter devastation. Within his upper right, he bears a great maul. In his upper left, a great Warpstone blade. In his lower left, a great axe. And finally, in his lower right, Seddrinth bears a savage punch-dagger. With this arsenal, combined with his mighty Daemonic powers, Seddrinth the Gifted is an engine of unfathomable doom, more than capable of laying waste to entire armies with ease. What is worse, Seddrinth can call onto the battlefield lesser daemons of the Chaos Gods and easily turn a band of cultists to his vile will, as he is still a champion of Chaos Undivided.

Captain Krauser
"We are born to kill. We are born to die. We are born to serve."

- Captain Krauser recites the mantra of the Janissaries

The commander of the infamous 76th Janissary Company, forged in the flesh pits of Lupercal's Folly and bred to serve their dark masters as their frontline troops and special forces units, Captain Krauser is considered one of the highest ranking mortals in all of the Warband. He is one of the few human officers placed at the side of the Blackspawn Brothers, and perhaps the only one that has their respect and trust. He alone commands the mighty 76th Company, an elite unit of Janissaries that is famed for being the most decorated unit of the already formidable Janissary force within the 1st Storm. He was grown in a tank and conditioned from birth to be the ideal soldier of Chaos. Ruthless, unquestioning, and completely loyal to his superiors, Krauser is a figure of great fear and respect amongst the other mortal forces of the Storm Draugar.

Krauser began his life as nothing more than a potential candidate for gene-seeding, as most Janissaries are at the beginning. However, his body was found lacking, weather it was some crucial gene or a simple case of minor mutation, none can be certain. Thus he was pressed into the elite Janissaries, where he would be pushed to the very limits of his mind and body. In the end, he survived the training, and became something far more deadly than the average cultists or traitor guardsman. He was now proficient with nearly any weapon, from blades and rifles, to explosives and exotic weapons tainted by Chaos itself. His mind was stripped clean of any emotions that could have interfered with his duties, like fear, empathy, and love. He had become little more than a well trained attack dog, set upon the enemies of the Storm when the might of the Astartes was unable to reach the foe.

For many years Krauser climbed the ranks, working his way from a lowly private, to sergeant, and eventually lieutenant by the time of the infamous Battle for Sentinel Prime. It was during that bloody engagement that he would earn his place as the commander of the 76th Janissary Company. Engaged in the choked streets of Sentinel Prime's Capital Hive City, Krauser lead his platoon in a brutal counter attack during the now infamous "Battle of King's Span". The battle for this single bridge connecting the main gate to the Spires above and the hive below was the most bloody of the entire conflict. Hundreds of men gave their lives for every inch of that span. It was during this battle that Krauser commandeered a disabled Rhino and used it to plow his way through the enemy gun line, crushing several guardsmen and breaking the back of the enemy as he and his men fired their hellguns relentlessly from the transports gunports. With the main line broken, the way was open for the rest of the Cultists to began their charge. Soon the Imperial ranks were overwhelmed and hacked to pieces. The fall of their front lines signaled the arrival of the Storm Draugar themselves, including the great Malak Blackspawn and the deadly Champion Umbal. Krauser would go on to distinguish himself further as he and his men spearheaded the advance directly alongside the mighty Draugar Lord, and Krauser's skill with his Hellpistol and Chainsword was such that, even though the forces of the Storm Draugar were eventually routed by a great tide of Fraternis Militia, Malak Blackspawn would still promote Krauser to the rank of Captain.

Now, as the commander of the mighty 76th Company, Krauser is an icon of all things the Storm Draugar value in their human subjects. Loyal, tenacious, and ruthless beyond measure. Now, clad in his carapace armor and brandishing his Hellpistol and Chainsword, he will cut down foe after foe in the name of the Storm Draugar and Chaos.

Emanuel the Icon
"Yes! Fly high, oh wondrous black banner! So that the enemies of the Dark Gods may see us! So that they may know our names! So that they may know our blades!"

- Emanuel leading the charge against the Eldar forces of Craftworld Ke'Lan

The famous Standard Bearer of the 76th Janissary Company, the man known as the Icon began life as little more than a genetic sample set to culture in a tube. But he would grow to become one of the most inspiring examples of mad bravery and zeal the Warband had ever seen. Emanuel's tale is one of steadfast dedication and dogged obedience in the face of insane odds, and such a tale made him worthy of holding high the tainted black banner of the Company.

During the Battle of Firehold, Emanuel was merely a private, armed with only his Hellgun and combat knife, holding the line against the forces of several other Warbands and those of Firehold's xenos overlords. He and his squad were holding the line at a great open plaza in the shadow of the xenos warlord's palace, fighting against both cultists and Chaos Marines alike. They held the line until a brutal artillery barrage ravaged the area. Disoriented, ears ringing, and hellgun cast from him, Emanuel saw that the Company Standard had been cast to the ground in the chaos, its bearer torn to pieces. He then looked behind him, the lesser cultists of the Storm Draugar were abandoning the position in the face of the onrushing enemy tide. That was against orders. His orders were to hold the line. Emanuel would hold the line. He dashed out into the open, taking up the banner as he ran, and with all the power he could muster let loose a great warcry. His voice was said to have been blessed by Khorne himself on that day for it seemed to roar with the force of a thousand war horns, so great that even the enemy were taken aback by this lone man charging their oncoming ranks, banner held high. He dove into the teeming mass of enemy cultists, singlehandedly slaughtering one after the other with nothing but the banner, which, though intended for such a purpose, was also intended as a last resort. But alone the valiant Emanuel could stand no chance, for his enemies were like insects on a corpse. As they surrounded him, ready to pull him to the ground, a booming roar sounded from across the plaza. The cultists of the Storm Draugar had regrouped, and in a great counter charge, rallied to Emanuel's side.

It was due to his great actions that the Storm Draugar won victory on that day, for had Emanuel not overturned the enemy's charge, the force assaulting the palace would have been overrun, caught between the artillery and infantry. For his valor and loyalty, Emanuel was commended personally by the mighty Malak Blackspawn, and rewarded with the position of Standard Bearer for the illustrious 76th Company until death takes him. Clad in his carapace armor and armed with bolt pistol and banner, Emanuel serves as a living example of the Dark Gods favor, and commands the bravery of all who stand before his great black banner.

Lieutenant Blake "Shrapnel" Twinshanks
"Oh look, more guardsmen."

- Blake "Shrapnel" Twinshanks, readying himself for yet another wave of Kreigers during the Bloodbath of Tenthan

A cold, merciless butcher, Blake "Shrapnel" Twinshanks is a brutal psychopath always on the lookout for his next kill. Once a low ranking member of the Imperial Navy, Blake joined the ranks of the Storm Draugar when the Warband captured the Imperial Tithe Ship Grand Bounty, having made his choice to join the Dark Gods at the end of a Chaos Marines bolter.

Press ganged into the ranks of the Storm Draugars cultists and slave cannon fodder, Blake quickly learned to adapt, his quiet, soft demeanor quickly becoming violent. He learned that he had to assert some form of dominance or be constantly at risk, his own life meaning nothing to his superiors and even less to his fellow cultists. So, when the time was right, he proved his worth. On the barren world of Xerxes Prime, Blake initiated a confrontation with his commanding officer, a cult leader of significant status. Though the altercation was far from clean and swift, after gouging out the mans eyes and bashing his skull in with a length of pipe, Blake's superiors took notice.

Blake then found himself promoted to the ranks of the traitor guardsmen and other paramilitaries. It was here that Blake earned his reputation. Armed with a basic grenade launcher and laspistol, Blake survived in the ranks for over three years. However, he only reached his current level of infamy during the bloody Battle of Olm. There, on the fungal death world, he and his comrades found themselves fighting for their very lives against the forces of the Catachan Jungle Fighters. Cut off from the main body of the Storm Draugar on world, and surrounded on all sides, Blake took command of the ravaged remains of his platoon. Through cold determination and ruthless cunning, he managed to drag himself and fourteen others out of the flesh eating muck and man eating foliage, with a Catachan Combat Knife as a trophy. It was also here that he earned the nickname "Shrapnel", as his grenade launcher had put an end to many a Catachan hiding in the brush.

Now Blake is a ranking lieutenant, with command over at least seven hundred souls. He serves the Storm Draugar well, and is rewarded with a warm officers tent and all the rations he can carry. Blake does not lament his position, for it is far better than being dead... or worse, being a cultist.

Nathan "Tactic" Citcat III
"I always got a plan baby. Always."

- Nathan to his crewmen prior to hijacking an Imperial Freighter during the Battle of Derune

A sly manipulator and cold blooded murderer, Nathan Citcat III is head of the House Citcat, arguably the largest and most powerful merchant house in all of Lupercal's Folly. Like many, the Citicat House began as little more than a gang within the lower levels of the great fortress, but due to Citcat IIIs cunning leadership rose to become one of the foremost players in the great syndicates that dominate the economy of Lupercal's Folly.

Nathan Horatio Jonah Darius Citcat III has lived on the razors edge since the day he was born to the pirate lord Nathan Horatio Jonah Darius Citcat II. The only bastard son to take up his fathers meager fleet, Nathan was educated by his wealthy father in the ways of void warfare and hand to hand combat. His father was a once a powerful Rogue Trader, but scandal and heretical intrigue left his wealthy house in ruins, leaving only a scattered fleet of renegades and pirate scum. But Citcat II would still hold onto what remained of his once wealthy house with an iron grip, even as he was driven into the River of Exiles for the sake of simple survival.

Thus he taught his bastard son, his only possible heir, all he knew. Swordplay, piracy, the sordid legacy of the Citcat line. Nathan was a quick learner, swiftly adopting his fathers cynical and self serving attitudes and becoming very adept in close quarters combat. Such skills would serve him well, as the Storm Draugar would brutally slay his father and take control over all of his assets after the Rogue Traders ill conceived attempt to capture the automated asteroid mining platform known as Nimrod's Wisdom. Forces of the Third Storm, slew Nathan's father and took him, along with whatever remained of Citcat II's crew, to Lupercal's Folly to being their lives as slave laborers within the forges.

However, Nathan was nothing if not resourceful. At processing, he managed to convince his new overseer that he was far better as a taskmaster than an assembly line worker. While ambivalent about giving a young slave the post, the overseer was nothing if not a shrewd business man, and, having lost one of his taskmasters to a pack of Mournscreams a few weeks prior, gave the boy the position, for only a quarter of the pay of course. Nathan excelled at his post, his duelist wrists making him very skilled with the lash. Productivity on his particular line of the West Sarcanth Manufactorum was markedly higher than the rest such was his skillful application of his tools. None would doubt Citcat III's ability to motivate.

But an honest days work and a working man's salary was not befitting the sole surviving heir to the Citcat legacy, and Nathan sought a way to take back his families former glory. He found his answer in the cesspool that was the Lower Western Mid-level Quarter slums. Here, in one of the poorest districts of Lupercal's Folly, Citcat not only found his early home, but the means with which to carve out an empire. The gangs of the Lower Western Mid-level Quarter, also known as the "Crimson Streets" District, were noted for their sheer ruthlessness. These were desperate men, scraping by on the assembly lines by day, fighting for scraps of power in the slums by night. Nathan knew he could use such men, he needed only to gain their loyalty. And gain it he did.

Nathan started from the very bottom, though on a taskmasters payroll he was easily the most wealthy member of the Mightnight Rockers gang. This allowed him to buy some influence and make his early days as a ganger run smoothly, but where Nathan was aiming to go, a taskmasters money would get him only so far. He proved himself to be a cut above the rest, both a shrewd businessman and an expert with a blade and whip. He quickly rose through the gangs ranks, eventually facilitating their monopoly over all narcotics trade within the Crimson Streets. Within a year he became the gang leader, and within three years he had taken what was little more but a street gang and turned it into one of the most profitable criminal "Families" in the Middle Mid-Level Quarter habs.

The Citcat Family ran all the illicit and legal trade, swiftly and brutally stamping out or buying out all competition. Nathan's influence spread like wildfire, and with the unique brand of militant knowledge and economic savvy that only the son of a Rogue Trader would have, he rode this wave of momentum straight to some the highest echelons of Lupercalian society.

Now Nathan Horatio Jonah Darius Citact III, known as Tactic by close friends and hated enemies, is thrice the man his father would ever be. He is both pirate lord, merchant prince, and noble lord. He commands enough wealth to fund his own personal army and small fleet of warships, and lives in the highest spires of Lupercal's Folly, surrounded by his wealth and opulence. But Citcat III and his mighty House are still the chattel of the Storm Draugar, and Nathan does well to remember that. However, Nathan also knows that the Storm Draugar dare not cook their golden goose, and with the vast sums of wealth he brings in, both from within and beyond Lupercal's Folly, he can afford to occasionally overpay his taxes to ensure that he gets the continued goodwill of the Blackspawn brothers.

John "Fido" Fistan
"Now I don't bite... hard."

- Fido intimidating a band of slaves

Born on Lupercal's Folly, John "Fido" Fistan learned at an early age that to survive amongst the ranks of the Lost and Damned, one must be utterly ruthless. Joining the Lupercal Enforcers at a young age, John quickly found his ruthless attitude rewarded... with conscription into the ranks of the Warband's cultist hordes. John would serve for years within the numberless and thankless ranks of the cultists, his thuggish behavior and brutish physique making him more then suited for the position of zealous cannon fodder. But John wanted more, he wanted power and recognition. So he, like so many cultists before him, took it. John beat the leader of his cultist band to death and assumed control of his first squad.

From this position of meager power, John slowly worked his way up the ladder of power within the murderous mobs of the Storm Draugar's cultist auxiliaries. Proving his worth on the field of war and spreading his influence in the barracks, he slowly became something of a demagogue. He took up the mantel of warrior-priest to his men, though hardly an eloquent orator, he could certainly stir up the veritable horde he had under his command into a mass of killing fury with little more but a few impassioned words about the glory of the Dark Gods.

Considered little more than a brute and rabble rouser by most of the Storm Draugar, John "Fido" Fistan is in fact one of the most influential leaders of the cultist hordes, often the "power behind the throne" of various other demagogues, making him a far more powerful than most of his superiors realize. Thankfully, John is less of a revolutionary and more of a indulgent brute, and uses his power to secure luxuries for him and his men and to exercise a petty amount of power upon his disciples.

John has been blessed with hideous mutations for his devoted service to the Dark Gods, inhuman strength and snarling, canine maw chief amongst these. He has also been blessed with great claws upon his hands and feet, and monsterous spikes festooning his leathery hide. But these are not the only tools at Johns disposal, for his status as a warlord has secured for him the finest wargear afforded to a cultist. Great slabs of improvised carapace armor protect his hulking mutant form as he brandishes a bolter in his claws. Upon his snout he wears an ornate yet crude helmet, shaped for his elongated skull and replete with surprisingly sophisticated auto scenes that augment his already keen serpent-like eyes. At his belt he wears a vicious Rending Blade, and slung across his back is a clunky, cobbled together chainsword and metla. With this veritable arsenal, John "Fido" Fistan is a terror upon the battlefield, slaughtering his way through the enemy ranks alongside his cultist peons, roaring and bellowing for more sacrifices for the Dark Gods.

Alessandra Angoletta
"My lords the Blackspawns are... interesting subjects. I have long known the "honor" of being their personal remembrancer. I have followed their lives for at least then thousand years, and I can say that they are, at the very least, beings of their word. Ten thousand years ago they promised that I would be treated well and cared for, and not a day goes by that I am not grateful to be alive. Even now, here deep in the River of Exiles, where daemons roam freely and madmen kill without fear of law, I am free to roam the halls without fear. But I oft wonder, what will become of me and my fellows when they are no longer here to protect me? Very few of their men are of the same breed. The Blackspawns, as cruel and brutal as they are, still respect the power of the written word and sculpture. I know there are those under their command who would not hesitate to throw me upon a pyre of my own works. So why do I stay? Why don't I run? Even if I was caught, it would surely be better than waiting for death to inevitably come. But perhaps, perhaps this is the last place that will allow me my silly little skills. It seems like only a month ago a person of my ability was the kind the Emperor hand picked to document humanities revival. Now... now its all so different... so muddled. This is the only place where I have meaning, recording the monstrous feats of warlords and madmen. There is nowhere else for me to be. I do not know weather I am blessed, or cursed."

- Rememberancer Alessandra Angoletta, Vox Log #449753

Once a Alessandra Angoletta was renowned throughout the stars as one of the living treasures of Mankind. Now she is little more than a vanity piece, her and her fellow Remeberancers aboard Lupercal's Folly acting as little more than propagandists or scribes for the Blackspawn Brothers and some of their select minions. As the greatest amongst her fellow Rememberancers, Alessandra is the personal scribe of the Blackspawn brothers themselves. Responsible for works such as The Memoirs of Cthonia, The Fallen Hundred, and Spawns of War, Alessandra has been recording the deeds and lives of the Blackspawn brothers for untold centuries now. As their personal scribe, Alessandra is a prisoner in a guided cage, afforded every luxury but freedom. Though now, as the days grow dark and the toll of endless war grows on the Galaxy, she ponders weather or not her position is truly lamentable.

Born on Terra during the rapid reconstruction following the Unification Wars, she was witness, not to the bloodshed of unification, but the wonders. Vast cities arose where ruin once lay, industry and civilization sprung up where only war and death had once been the norm for untold generations. Alessandra was very much a product of her time in a sense. At age six her talent for the arts was recognized when she sculpted a nearly lifelike figurine of the Emperor out of simple clay. By age nine she was a celebrity within her burgeoning hive city, a wunderkin of the arts. She could compose symphonies, write epic sagas and poems, even sculpt masterworks in record time. Such talent earned her one of the most prestigious of offices following the alliance with Mars. At the young age of only fifteen, she was selected amongst many of mankinds greatest artisans to document the great conquests of the Great Crusade. And such an assignment could not have come sooner, for the first of the Emperor's lost sons had just been discovered.

Alessandra was there to document Horus' personal address to his Legionaries, and for the mass recruitment of Cthonian youths. From then on, she was a common face amongst much of the Legion, documenting readily every great battle and siege the Luna Wolves took part in. However, a certain pair of Legionaries became the object of her undivided attention. The exploits of the Blackspawn brothers had started to become the talk of the Legion, especially after the brutal battle of Siph VI and its native Siphonian Blood Reavers. When she first heard of the duo facing off against the hordes of insectoid xenos, the thought it merely the stuff of hyperbole. Surely it would have taken more than two Legionaries to slay the Reaver queen and her royal guard. But it was when she followed the pair during the Siege of Gurtan that they became the object of near obsession.

She had been following the pair for almost a month, constantly bothering them for interviews and quotes, finding their personalities to be quite captivating. Malak with his brutish bravado and simple charisma seemed so at odds with Ingar's reserved and measured mannerisms. She would have hardly thought them brothers until she saw them in action at the siege. She was on the field during the bloody battle, close to her subjects as always, when the great wall of the Ork stronghold gave way to the XVI Legion's punishing artillery fire. As the Orks spilled out to face the Legionaries, Alessandra found herself suddenly caught up in the melee. She was as out of place as any petite human would be surrounded by a sea of xenos barbarians and legendary astartes warriors. It was only when the walls of power armor and green muscle opened for her did she see and marvel in awe. Malak stood at the front, Vanquisher in one hand, while the other was locked firmly on an Orks throat. With ease he crushed its windpipe so violently that its head blasted off like a bloody cork. Then, as an Ork rushed him from behind, Ingar seemed to materialize out of the chaos, driving Nirvana into the beasts jaw and twisting the blade around in its skull. It was at that point that Malak heaved something from the muck. It was another Legionary, clad in a beaten suit of Cataphractii Terminator Armor. He still clutched his power axe in one hand, and a Volkite Charger in the other. Malak bayed the Terminator to stand and fight, and fight the trio of Legionaries did, deep into the Ork's ranks. Malak seemed to be unstoppable, his blade and fist cutting a bloody path through the green tide while Ingar moved with fluid grace, killing with impunity as his blade and pistol rounds found their marks without fail.

Following the Siege, Alessandra would become the Blackspawn brother's shadow. Wherever they went, she went. When one was unavailable, the other would suffice. No other Legionaries captivated her as they did, none had the might nor the cunning that these two did, none so perfectly encapsulated what it was to be the most treasured sons of the Emperor. However, Alessandra's obsession would one day turn to horror as the Great Crusade came to a close, and the Horus Heresy began.

Alessandra would manage to survive the opening days of the heresy, keeping a low profile and rarely leaving her chambers aboard the ''Vengeful Spirit. ''However the constant threat of death paled at the time to the fate of her works. Constantly the young Rememberancer feared for her various historical documents and artworks, stealing away what she could into her quarters during the ships sleep cycles. It was during one of these midnight skirmishes that she overheard the murderous plot that would become known as the Drop Site Massacre.

In the aftermath of that heinous plot, Alessandra planned to take the opportunity to gather up the last of her few transportable pieces. But on that night, there was a pounding at her door. She dared not open it, but eventually it was forced open. But, much to her surprise, she was not met with great Astartes hands ripping her lithe body limb from limb. Instead, a squad of Legionaries filed in, and began to take her life's work and carry it out. She offered what resistance she could, flying at the hulking warriors once her shock had subsided. But a firm hand seemed to materialize from the ether and grab her by the shoulder. The looming figure was none other than Ingar Blackspawn. He gave Alessandra a choice, leave with him and his brother, or test her luck here aboard the ''Vengeful Spirit. ''With only passing hesitation as she watched her life's work be carted off by Legionaries, she accepted.

Now, alive for much longer than any human due to the time altering effects of the Warp, Alessandra has plenty of time to both lament and applaud that choice. For now she is free to pursue her passion in the arts, so long as she occasionally capitulates to the egos of various Storm Draugar from time to time. She paints the great murals and designs the mighty statues that litter ''Lupercal's Folly. ''And in return for her amazing work, she is kept living comfortably and with whatever her heart desires. Most would have long ago succumbed to the corruption of the Warp, but Alessandra has an inherent purity and repressiveness about her that keeps her from the thralls of daemons and gods. She simply ekes out her existence, full of lament, gratitude, and boredom.

By
"Come then, Loyalist, I wish to see if the sons of the Executioner have grown soft in their father's absence!"

- Malak Blackspawn challenging Wolf Lord Herald Frosthide of the 4th Great Company

"Where is your Emperor now?"

- Geudan the Vanquished as he burns a platoon of Guardsmen alive

"Very good. You have all fought well in the name of your bloated Corpse-Emperor. Allow me to commend you."

- Hurlok Zahz to a band of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers prior to unleashing Leviathan upon them

"Yes, Farseer, you did predict this outcome. But what you could not have predicted is that I would predict it as well. You missed the signs so sure you were that this was the right path. And now I will reap the benefits of your own self deception."

- Ingar Blackspawn to Farseer Nahla of Craftworld Ke'Lan prior to summoning a pack of Daemonettes

"Forward you dogs! Forward! I, Baail Deurtog, will not see my battle plans sullied by your leaden feet!"

- Baail Deurtog, Draugar Lord of the Fifth Storm, whipping his cultist into the waiting guns of loyalist during the Second Siege of Forgeworld Jovia

About
"First they make the classic blunder of falling to the Moronic Powers, then they double down by choosing to worship no gods in particular. These idiots wouldn't be worth a moment of my time except they have stuff that should belong to me."

- Douchard Bagge "You walk a path of servitude and weakness. I walk a path of damnation that far eclipses your parasitic gods of chaos!"

- Izrivan Luvt to Malak Blackspawn upon their final duel. "If the Draugar wished to incur our wrath, then they have succeeded. Baserilus' death shall not go unavenged. I will see to that personally."

- First-Captain Locun of the Revealers.

"The assassins were amusing to say the least, but this is simply laughable. Here I stand, searching for a way to break your warband's advances, and you stride forth to offer your life up to me. Truly the Dark Gods favor me this day, for the head of the beast now bares it's throat and begs to be decapitated!"

- Xaphuris, accepting Malak Blackspawn's challenge

"It was the strangest thing, in the middle of the night the enemy just stopped firing back at us. We could hear explosions and gunfire through the night, but it wasn't incoming. It wasn't till the morning that we found out what happened. The scouts reported the enemy trenches full of corpses, including some wearing colors we didn't recognize. Oh well, saves us the trouble of killing them ourselves, and we still get paid."

- Foreman Petrov of the Tremorisian Mine Guards, in the aftermath of a siege. "Always is refreshing to fight alongside you Umbal. Not many can appreciate the great dance quite like you, matching me step for step, dip for pivot and thrust for slash. It's almost like dancing with a lover you haven't seen in years... we must do so again soon dear."

- The Visceral Artist, Hadrak, speaking to Umbal before his departure after aiding the Draugar

"Malak, you bad dog! Sit, stay, role over... no? Well don't worry, I have just the song to fix your bad attitude!"

- Calios, Lord-Conductor of the Void Sirens "Heheheh, that is an ADORABLE little dance you have Leshta, but must it be so simple? Don't you have any pride as one of our Dark Prince's spawn? Even for a daemonette... you're disappointing."

- Hadrak after "dancing" with Leshta and severely outclassing her.

"What brave claims you make, wretch! You dare call my brothers and I cowards? You dare lecture me about fear?! Have you so easily forgotten what it is that the Eighth Legion lives and breathes? Come then, allow me to remind you!"

- Osiris Morvante

"Do tell your Lord Blackspawn that we await with baited breath, the opportunity to include the Storm Draugar in the next step of our master plan to topple the Imperium in the Pacificus. We're thinking of the kind of violence that'd be right in his wheelhouse."

- Ducky "Bloodgorger" Rumsfeld-Mathers, aspiring Champion of the Wisteria Rascals.

"Say what you will of us, Heretic, but know this: you and that band of misbegotten bastards lurking behind your back are naught but faithless, honourless gutter scum. In the name of the Angel and the Master of Mankind, I will see to it that not one of your squalid number will leave this place alive. Those two were not much good. You, however, look like you might even offer me some sport. Were you not such a Warp-tainted vermin, I would gladly drink your blood tonight."

- Captain Matharos of the Angels Crepuscular, having presented the severed heads of two Storm Draugar Legates to Baail Deurtog during the Battle for Hive Sega Prime "Primitive invaders with the only tactically redeeming quality of being able to strike at statistically beneficial points of time by sheer coincidence. However their mindless persistence and convenient timing can easily be manipulated to further the wealth of our great Forges."

- Fabricator General Enmakar of Forgeworld Jovia

"I have made mention to Lord Cain not to make note on the subject of the Storm Draugar's worship of mindless animals."

- Xaphon

"They're all traitors to their own kind. Traitors to traitors, it's almost ironic isn't it?"

- Dolfdir of the Crusaders Once Crossed "The Blackspawn Brothers? By the Sea of Souls, I'm surprised to hear those two mules survived the Heresy...Go then. Return to your masters, dog, and tell them that the Reaper of Caliban seeks their audience."

- Erusar, to the sole survivor of a squad of Roghan Scrios

Trivia

 * A Draugr is a creature of Norse Mythology. Basically the vengeful spirit of an evil person, Draugar were able to grow at will and drive mortals mad with their mere presence, they could also "swim through rock" and drank the blood of their victims. A Draugr could only be killed if its head was cut off, its body burned to ash, and its remains cast into the sea.
 * Draugr is the singular term, while Draugar is the plural.