User:T42/Sandbox

Boom. Welcome to the Sanbox.

Gene-Seed Organs
These bad boys were ment for the Imperial Hounds, but since Imposter and Ghost kindly told me it was a fools gambit, I posted em here.

Gene-Seed organs, the Imperial Hounds bear four exeperemental organs:

The Logos Node- The Logos Node is a small blue organ that is the 20th implanted into a Neophyte, it is attachted to the Astartes brain stem and, through an unknown process, connects telepathicly with all other Space Marines who have this Node. While Imperial Hounds cannot comunicate in words with the Logos Node, they can get a "feel" for one anothers intentions. The range of this ability is debated but the average distance that Logos Nodes seem to connect at is at least five miles. (however tales of Imperial Hounds connecting from a planets moon to his brothers on the nehboring planet have recently brought this estimate into question) This organ allows Imperial Hounds to fight in perfect quardination and maintain vox scilence, it also means that it is nigh impossible for Imperial Hounds to go rouge, as their loyal brothers will pick up on the urges and desires of the would be traitors. However, their ability to eliminate them may be questionable, as the downside to the Logos Node is that each Space Marine can feel his brothers pain, and should they die, the sudden physical shock can send these Marines into a vengful fury. This may be the cause for the remarkable loyalty between Astartes of the Imperial Hounds.

The Maga Bioscopia- Often implanted alongside the Bioscopia, this Gene-Seed organ acts in a similar fashion to the Bioscopia but greatly increses the Impieral Hounds overall endurance to levels that are astonishing even for a Space Marine. The Maga Bioscopia also increses the Space Marines strength beyond typical levels, making an Imperial Hounds Space Marine capable of punching through platesteel. (while unarmored) However, the rapid growth caused by this organ can lead to grotesque mutations and eventually death if not implanted into a geneticly compatable recuruite, and even then it must be closely monitered during the implantation and years after due to the often rapid mutation that can occur with the slightest imbalance within the Space Marines bio chemistry.

Bac's Enhancer- Named after the ingenious Magos who first crafted it, Bac's Enhancer allows Imperial Hounds to survive wounds that would kill an Astartes outright and fight in the harshest enviornments imagenable. This fist sized organ is often the last implanted within an Imperial Hounds Neopyte, as it requires all the other preivous organs to function correctly. This organ, though various bio chemical exchanges and other such processes, boosts the ability of all other Gene-Seed organs, most noteably the, Secondary Heart, Larraman's Organ, Haemastamen, Multi-Lung, and Oolitic Kidney. This allows organ so greatly enhances the Space Marines survivability that Imperial Hounds are noted to actually regenerate from "minor" wounds fast enough to be witnessed with the naked eye. However, serious mutations within this organ have been noted, while it cannot cause visable mutations on the Astartes, Bac's Enhancer can lead to total failure of all Gene-Seed organs, often killing the subject outright. This mutation is seldom noticed until it is far to late and many a healthy battle brother has simply fallen dead due to mutations within the Enhancer.

Astartes and Diplomacy, GC
Cast: Malak & Ingar Blackspawn and Collus w/h Jutaerin Squad(4). 40kfan's Night Lord Terror Squad. Amy's Division-Tribune Lizvaspian, known as "Shining Knight", Kaillis Captain of the Arterial, two Prefectors Liz's bodyguards with long phoenix spears, Callios as Banner Bearer, Silver Bladesmen/Emperor's Children/Void Sirens.

Plot: Gulan Conglomerates (Clannish civilization, Honor based, techy and advanced enough to resist both Luna Wolves and Emperor's Children Legions. Throne World all thats left, diplomacy is called for by Gulan, accepted by Legions to speed along the conquest. Diplomatic team comes in via Stormbird, scenery, planet is like Star Wars Coresant. Land, team makes way to Clan congregation, debate ensues. Third Chief pulls a riddik, Malak nearly crushes him, Ingar gets between them, then gets a flash, tackles 2nd Cheif, bomb goes off. Delegation is in chaos for a while everything calms down, terrorists make their announcement over comms, True Sons of Gulan decry alliance with Imps, say current government is weak and dumb ect ect. EC tries to smooth things over, saying Imperials will help, Gulan honor says that the SM are obligated to help solve this issue and discover who is behind the terrorists and that no more Imperial forces may land or it is an act of war.

The Corlay Guard (The Death Squads of Corlay)
Combat Style: Small unit tactics, Kill Squads, Assassin Scouts, Mechanized Infantry, Heavy Infantry.

Culture: Fascist Cast System, Warrior-Philosopher Kings rule planet as figureheads, legislators, and economic experts, young or glory hungry ones become high ranking officers within the Corlay Guard, Soldier Cast train in great academies all their lives and enforce Warrior-Philosopher Kings rule, fanatic, tend to be very prideful, Priest Cast enforce the Imperial Cult and provide moral counseling to both Warrior-Philosopher Kings and Labor Cast, Craftsman Cast creates war material and other goods, are often associated with Corlay's local machine cult, Labor Cast provides human resources and deals in agriculture, the Shadow Cast or "Cast-less" act as assassins and expendable soldiery in desperate times, can be selected to act as part of the exclusive "Commando Cast" due to their cutthroat natures and ability to survive.

Personality: Ultra-nationalists, "For the Emperor and Corlay!", ruthless, does not get along with others, considers themselves superior, have strong political convictions. Follow orders to the letter, dishonor in failure, must bring honor and glory to the Soldier Cast and family line.

Poss Names
Shoguns of Shred

Band at the Edge of Reality

Five Marines and an Eldritch Abomination

The Black Sound

Drowning Aquilla

The Thing That Should Not Be

Members/Instruments
Singer-

Guitarist- Jakob Urban

Bassist- Othello "Alpha" Van Merlin

Drummer-

DJ-

The Throne is Vacant
"Run! Run little one! Ahahaha! You can make it! Just keep running!"

The booming blast of the monsters voice tore through the burning city, rushing after the little frame scrambling through the alleyway, tumbling through the rubbish heaps and trashbags. The smoke and fire cast a hellish red over the alleyway, the usual smog laden air of the hive city now choked with ash and the smell of burning flesh. The little form, wreathed in patchwork rags and long, curly black hair, looked over her shoulder. Set against the flames and flash of bolterfire was the monster, towering above a pair of mangled corpses, monstrous axe roaring, splattering gore across the walls as it gave chase.

"Yes! Scamper! Flee! Scream! I want to see the fear in your little eyes! I want to feel the life drip out of your little body as it falls apart in my hands!"

As it ran, it ran its claws and axe across the alley walls, creating flashes and sparks, revealing its silhouetted form. Flashes of spikes and skulls, bones and eldritch scrawlings, of slathering maws filled with gnashing teeth, of burning purple eyes.

The little one ran, her eyes fixing ahead on the open roadway at the end of the alley. A torrent of human chaos awaited on the other side. People rushing past, monsters in their midst, weapons and guns spraying gouts of gore and fire. Her feet pounded even harder as she heard the thundering footfalls grow closer, sparks of damned weaponry burning in the corners of her eyes. The screaming throngs grew closer, faces could be made out now in the red glow. All were new to the little one, all full of terror and mad panic, unlike her own. She had closed out panic, closed out fear. There was only the end of the alleyway. There was only escape.

Suddenly the air was ripped from her lungs, the human stream torn from view as the grimy alley floor rushed up to replace it. As she hit the ground, the great shape came sailing over her, digging its flashing claws deep into the wall, ripping it down and pivoting to face her.

"Aww, did the little one have a tumble?"

She dared not look up, dared not move. Her lips began to move of their own accord, the only comfort she had left slipping from them.

"Holy throne of golden Terra, watch over me. Protect me from those who trespass against you, God Emperor of Ma-"

A heavy, burning hot mass, dug into her scalp, prompting a yelp of pain.

"Ah! Now that's a far better sound."

The monster hoisted her high from her long, curly locks, her little hands pulling at the solid mass that was its gauntleted hand. It burned her soft palms at the touch, and the heat began to sear her scalp.

"Stop! Please! Let me go!" She screamed.

"Why should I?"

"If you don't He will get you!"

The monster tossed her roughly to the side, crashing her into a pile of rubbish.

"Who? Him?" The beast motioned his horned head to the great statue that loomed in the distance, standing with its stoic face to the carnage of the beleaguered hive. "The Corpse Emperor?"

"He punishes bad men!"

A black, hollow laugh built slowly from the depths of the monsters chest. Slowly rolling out and growing in depraved humor.

"I am no man, little one." The monster said, steaming drool dripping from its slathering, triangular maw.

"He kills monsters too! And He will get all of you for the things you've done!" She screamed defiant, leaping to her feet, little fists balled with all the fury she could muster.

The monster was taken aback, his head tilted in an amused fashion as he flexed his glowing claws. The little one noticed the gaping hole left in its wake, opening into a vast room with crates piled high.

"Will He now?"

"Yes! A-and you can't stop him!" She tensed herself as the beast took a step forward, gripping his axe once more from its place on his skull laden belt of chains.

"Oh? I can't?" It spoke in a falsely inquisitive tone.

"No one can stop Him! H-he is all powerful! He is the God of all mankind! And He will punish yo-"

He voice was cut off by the loud crash of the axe being dropped at her feet.

"If your Emperor is so powerful, then pick up that axe." The monster snarled, a cruel smile in its words.

"Wh-what?" She asked, stunned by the great toothed axe laying before her. The weapon was easily twice her size, was caked with gore and viscera, and smelled of burnt blood and flesh.

"If the Emperor is so eager to punish me, surely he could give you the power to lift that axe. He could imbue you with the might to strike me down right now, and at the hands of a little girl no less! Go on, fight for your Emperor, avenge mankind! Do it!" It roared at her, hefting its flashing power claw high over its head in menace.

With much trepidation, she reached for it, its very hilt burned her flesh on contact. She recoiled, drawing in a pained hiss through closed teeth.

"Whats the matter? Is the glorious God Emperor not with you? Does he not care? Am I simply not vile enough to smite?"

The little one scowled and shook with rage, "Shut up!"

"Make me! Strike me down, little crusader!"

Again she clamped her hands around the axe, the burning haft searing her soft palms. She held on, hot tears running down her dark cheeks. She did not release it, both hands holding firm, muscles straining to move the mighty hulk of steel and teeth. The flesh began to slip from her palms, but she held firm, mouthing the prayers her mother had taught her.

"You can't lift it, little one." The chiding, mocking tone of the monster oozed into her ears.

"Shut up!" She screamed, eyes shut and teeth bared against the pain.

"You have no strength, because there is no one here to help you. There is no one to protect you. No one to save you. There is no God Emperor."

"He will kill you! He will make you pay!"

"He will do nothing, for there is only a vacant throne, with the old, moldering bones of a long dead man rotting atop its seat. You burn your hands for nothing. You scream for nothing. You lived, and will die, for nothing. Just like your loving parents. Just like every single pathetic little soul in this wrenched stain of human waste!" He snarled with manic glee as he swung his claw at the little girl, narrowly missing her, instead ripping open a dumpster and lighting its contents ablaze.

She took this chance to flee, ducking in between the behemoths legs and darting towards the opening in the wall. She heard the axe roar narrowly behind her, catching for a moment on the scruff of her neck, ripping the rags from her.

"Where is your bravery little crusader!?" The beast mockingly roared behind her as she dove into the midst of the cargo crates and boxes. She clawed through the pitch black chaos of the haphazard stacks, desperately trying to escape the sound of smashing crates behind her.

King's Span
It's red eyes seemed to still stare out, its iron maw still fixed with a savage sneer of metal teeth, still stained with blood even after all these years. Justin held the black and purple helm in his hands a moment longer, captivated by its baleful markings, its spikes made of bone that covered the entire head, the jagged symbols that had been carved deep into the ceremite plating. It was a thing of utter evil. It was pure, solidified, heresy. And yet, Justin had to endure its vile presence only a little longer.

The young man stuffed the helm into the secret compartment with the rest of his "artifacts" that he had gathered from the days skulking in the underhives and covered the little trapdoor with the usual goods. The cart had to look as unassuming as possible, just like every time beforehand. The fine fabrics here, the exotic pets there, the rare spices from far off hives stacked neatly in their section directly above the heretical artifacts. Justin agonized over his cart's appearance for nearly half an hour within the dank alleyway. He realized, as he was reshuffling the animal cages for the third time, that he was shaking.

"It's okay Justin boy." He whispered under his breath. "It's just this months run, just this months run. After today, you won't have to do this again for another whole month."

He always said that, just once a month. It somehow brought comfort, but Justin also knew that a month in Hive Julianis went by faster than one would think. He poked his head from the alleyway entrance, watching the great river of humanity rush by him in an unending tide going to and fro.

"Just step on out and you'll blend in." He murmured reassuringly. "You're just some goon with a wagon full of shite for the fops on high, that's it. Go to the gate, go in, move the product, get out. Easy."

His hands still trembled as he hefted his cart and plunged into the rushing sea of humanity. King's Span was utterly massive, wide enough for nearly a few hundred men to walk fingertip to fingertip, yet, as it always was with Hives, every available empty space had been invaded by the onrushing tide of humanity. Thankfully, Justin's cart forced a small gap between him and the writhing masses. The golden span went on for several miles,

The Runner
The stagnant air of Lupercal's Folly forced itself down Gregory's throat as he stood on the precipice, overlooking the steel and rockcrete jungle of the great fortress city. Her spires rose up into the blackness of the upper canopy, where the overlords of the city slumbered, and plunged deep into the utter darkness below, where the Nurglites and Mournscreams lurked. The city itself seemed to be an endless forest of towers and blocks of urban sprawl, broken only by the pulsing veins of light that were her innumerable highways. The air tasted of acid and smog, and stung the eyes of foreigners.

But Gregory was no foreigner. He had lived all his life here in these great fortress walls, and he would die here, one day. But hopefully not today.

"We got him now boys, bastard has stuck himself up on the roof!" Gregory heard over his shoulder as he stood on the ledge, eyes fixed directly ahead of him. He heard the enforcers bashing on the door, their grunts and curses. But he did not take his eyes away from the black city, he did not blink away the ash as it settled on his lashes. He took a deep breath, and steadied himself.

The rusty latch on the old iron door gave way as the enforcers muscled their way through it, but Gregory had greater things on his mind. As he leapt, he closed his eyes for but a moment, feeling the cold rush of the wind, the sudden weightlessness. He heard the amazed voices of the enforcers vanish as the whipping sound of the wind batted at his ears.

Badunz Tribe
The Badunz Tribe are a savage band of Orks known for their violent exploits around the western rim of Segmentum Ultima and near the Galactic Core. Though considered a mild threat (as mild as a marauding Ork Tribe can be)

Squad Claudicos
A Squad of Storm Draugar Youngbloods under the command of Lord Murdok of the Third Storm. As is the station of the Third Storm, squads of Youngbloods and rarely more experienced Chaos Marines of the 3rd Storm are sent out on "police actions" and other diplomatic actions on behalf of the Storm Draugar within the Blackspawn Dominion. They patrol the Dominion space lanes upon the infamous Enforcer Fleets of the Storm Draugar, ready to both defend and put down the populations of the subjugated and allied worlds of the Storm Draugar.

These Enforcer Fleets serve a dual purpose. First, they act as a sort of mobile garrison within the Blackspawn Dominion, supporting the regimes of their client worlds in times of rebellion or conflict with small factions. Ideally, most Dominion worlds are more than capable of defending themselves, being supplied with weapons and funds through trade to support considerable armies and fleets. However, times often arise where these forces are not enough or prove incapable. It is then that the Dominion worlds call out for the direct action of their overlords. The Enforcer fleets are small but dangerous forces, their ships being outfitted by the Storm Draugar's Warpsmith shipwrights to exacting standards and crewed with an armies worth of traitor guard and cultist fodder. Each Enforcer Fleet also houses no less than six full squads of Youngbloods and occasionally high ranking warband members if the issue is dire enough. This force is usually more than enough support the client world needs to put down great rebellions or solve power struggles. But the more important role of the Enforcer Fleets are to remind the Dominion worlds of the Blackspawn brothers authority within their realm of the Maelstrom. The Enforcer Fleets can easily overtake a single world, or, if the local forces prove too unruly to put down, call for the assistance of the rest of the 3rd Storm. The fact that there are at least several Enforcer Fleets, regularly stopping by Dominion worlds both on request and at random, makes many an ambitious noble or warlord think twice about any ideas of treachery, and most certainly ensures that they are expedient with their taxes.

Squad Members
Claudicos Vand: An old one eyed Legionary older than some space fairing empires, Claudicos was born centuries ago on ancient Terra, raised by the techno-barbarian warrior tribes of his homeland and later molded into a living weapon by the burgeoning Imperium of Man. He was one of the very first Astartes, this makes him a veteran of innumerable wars, and a professional killer the likes of which few have ever known. His life within the Luna Wolves is a tale of blood and death, grand victories and crushing defeats. Few, if any Astartes, can claim to be as old or learned as Claudicos. But, unfortunately, even his super human biology does not make him wholly immune to the ravages of time, nor his own irreverent behavior.

Caludicos is both a being of vice and ill temper, virtually attached to his flask of Lupercalian Rotgut and prone to grudges. His advanced age has seen his physical ability decline somewhat, though he is certainly one of the most experienced warriors ever produced by mankind. Due to his advanced age, Claudicos was pressed into the ranks of the Third Storm, where his skills could be put to use guarding the Blackspawns holdings and training the Youngbloods of the garrisons.

As Legate of Squad Claudicos, Claudicos is a harsh but fair commander. He ensures that his charges are well disciplined and well aware of their betters, but also stokes the flames of ambition and zeal that they will need if they are to survive long enough to make something of themselves.

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Lotch: A hulking brute with a passion for violence and fire, Lotch may not be the brightest Storm Draugr, but he might very well be one of the toughest. Bred from the vast horrors of the Flesh Pits, Lotch was created with the singular purpose of slaughtering the enemies of the Storm Draugar. To this end, his gene-seed was crafted to create the perfect front line fighter, borne of an exacting mix of Salamanders and Space Wolves gene-seed. Unfortunately, these augmentations resulted in horrendous mutations, resulting in a saurian visage, complete with elongated snout, razor sharp claws, and a scaly hide. The mutation also left Lotch's mind somewhat stunted, and his primal lust for combat and glory all the more powerful. The end result is a hulking abomination with the strength of three Astartes and a lust for blood and fire that is as powerful as it is terrifying.

As a member of Squad Claudicos, Lotch is the point-man and close combat specialist, his bestial instincts making him ideal for this line of work. Though slow witted, Lotch's animalistic instincts allow him to track his prey via the smell of blood and fear, not to mention the ability to "taste" the air with his serpent-like tongue to trace prey by pheromones alone. His visage also benefits his profession as a burgeoning berzerker, his snarling visage and beastly countenance striking fear into the hearts of his victims.

Lotch is borne of a very exacting mix of Salamanders and Space Wolves gene-seed, and was grown from Fenrisian genetic samples that were far from easy to secure for study in the Flesh Pits. While far from a perfect result, Lotch has not suffered from the curse of the Wuflen, though his form is so horribly mutated by his Salamanders gene-seed that it is technically unknowable what mutations may arise later in his life.

Lotch has equipped himself with wargear that he believes causes the maximum amount of carnage in the minimal amount of time. He bears an old Flamer as his primary weapon, and carries a Chainaxe and Bolt Pistol as his secondary weapons.

Velos Omorphii: Master marksman, expert tracker, and a ruthless warrior, Velos is a killer with much promise behind him. Born a prince to one of the warlike city-state clans of the feral world of Koh in the Nosta system, Velos was conditioned from birth to be a warrior-king with few equals. Conditioned for combat by the time he had turned his second year, Velos, and many other children of Koh, were ideal specimens for gene-seeding. Thus, Velos ended up within the vile flesh pits, his body morphed into an engine of pain and malice.

But all was not as horrible as it could be, for he was fortunate enough to have the will and constitution to survive, and was implanted with some of the finest gene-seed the Warband could muster. Velos bears not only the blood of the great clan Omorphii, but also the dual linage of Robute Guilliman and Fulgrim. His gene-seed, while not pure in any sense, is completely stable and has saved Velos' form from being marred by mutation. He is both beautiful and graceful, blessed with the countenance of the Phoenician and the poise of the Avenging Son. But behind his serene gaze lies the mind of a steeled warrior, bred to the be the champion to his warlike people. Now a loyal warrior of the Blackspawn brothers, he intends to carry out his duties with the utmost efficiency.

To this end, Velos employ's some unusual weapons, first and foremost being his Javelins. As a child he was trained by his father to utilize the Javelin like many of the warrior youths of his world, it being a primary weapon in the art of war and a symbol of a strong ruler. In his days of grueling training, Velos fashioned his first Javelins out of scrap metal, but now as a fully fledged Storm Draugar, he has had them made of more sturdy materials. Light, sturdy, and easy to manufacture, Velos can easily carry two dozen or so in a quiver on his back. While a primitive weapon in the eyes of his comrades, those who have seen Velos employ his Javelins know for certain what damage even the most simple of implements can do in the hands of a Chaos Marine. Velos can easily strike a man down from many yards away, and the fine points can pierce power armor with the force that Velos throws them at. They are also potent close combat weapons, light and sharp enough to plunge quickly and precisely into the vital areas, while sturdy enough to also block incoming blows. But of course, Javelins are only one of Velos' most outstanding arms.

Velos also carries a bolt pistol and a short power sword, both of middling quality. These are by far less exotic weapons, but most certainly handy and deadly in the hands of this Youngblood.

But most important to Velos is his Lupercalian Cyber Mastiff, Frau. Velos first encountered his companion in the arena, but as opposed to slaying her, he subdued her. Frau reminded him too much of the great war dogs of his native people, and wanted the Pit Devil for his own. As he had survived the Proving Grounds, his superiors saw no issue with him taking the beast for his own.

Velos plays many roles within Squad Claudiclos, from tracker to marksman. Velos is quite an adept warrior, capable of many disciplines, though his exotic wargear and precise style of combat make him ideal for more independent roles, supporting the Squad from unexpected angles.

Galfa: Born from an experimental "Brood Beast" womb in a nightmarish manner similar to the dreaded Daemonculaba, Galfa was one of the few of his "litter" that was considered salvageable. Unlike his horridly mutated brothers, he was born with both skin and all his faculties intact. His form would even be considered attractive, possessing a roguish countenance that bespoke of his dual Luna Wolf and Blood Angels gene-seed.

However, Galfa is more monstrous than his appearance would suggest. Having been "born" a fully fledged Astartes, Galfa easily survived the trials to be fully accepted as a Storm Draugar, but such a rapid period of training left him both uncouth and undisciplined. Such a combination proved dangerous as the Red Thirst began to manifest itself within him. Soon he was devouring civilians during his patrols through the commons of Lupercal's Folly, known to sidle up to a group and simply kill and devour his victim for all of the city to see. This, along with Galfa's considerable combat ability, eventually saw him assigned to the Enforcer Fleets, where his hunger could be sated without causing such great unrest.

As a member of Squad Claudicos, Galfa is essentially the squads grenadier, armed with a full bandoleer of grenades to complement his bolter and chainsword. This is befitting of Galfas reckless attitude, as he is well known for leaping into the fray where he can both slake his thirst and show boat. Galfa prefers the easy kill over a challenge, and thus can be considered "liberal" with his ordinance at times.

Czanek Havel: Born within the warrens of Lupercal's Folly, Czanek has known the boot of the Storm Draugar since the day he was brought into this world. A child of slaves deep within the bowels of the mighty star fortress, Czanek was brought to the Flesh Pits at the age of three when the screening teams swept through the slums he called home, dragging the male children to the upper levels to be transformed into the latest crop of Chaos Marines.

Czanek was far from an ideal candidate, malnourished and weak, but he had a strength about him, a will that was not matched by the other initiates. He bested all the tests, survived the gene-seeding, and proved himself worthy when he emerged whole from the trials of the Proving Grounds. Czanek began his career as many of the younger Storm Draugar did, long months of training deep within barracks and sparing rings of the Upper Fortress, only broken by the occassional Block War between the great gangs of lower ''Lupercal's Folly. ''It was during those riots that Czanek became noticed by his superiors as a cut above the rest, showing restriction and discipline unlike his comrades. He marshaled his bolter rounds like a miser, and his work with a combat knife was exemplary. Such abilities marked him out for duty upon the Enforcer fleets with his fellow Youngbloods, where his talents could be put to better use than slaughtering rabble in the streets.

Czanek is the eldest and most level headed member of Squad Claudicos, making him a natural second in command and all round combatant. He is armed with a simple bolter, bolt pistol, and combat knife, but is extremely proficient with these and all manner of weapons. This allows him a surprising amount of control over the battlefield, engaging the enemy on his terms. He also shows a slight tactical flair, having an innate understanding of both logistics and fortifications in general. Much of this is believed to be part of Czanek's bastard gene-seed, a mix of Imperial Fists, Iron Warriors, and Death Guard. While the mix itself is considered stable, aside from the deficiencies of the Imperial Fist seed, it is also what may have affected his psyche in such as way as to breed an extremely taciturn and dour warrior such as Czanek.

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Germanic Marines
Names:

The Lighting Wodewose

The Wodeblades

The Dread Hammers

The Warriors of the Iron Forest

The Black Wounds

The Thunderers of Woe

The Sons of Woe

The Black Hounds

Lords of Woe

Warriors of Woe

Specifics:

Could suffer from a mutation in the Black Carapace, forcing most Marines to be Scouts and thus making them very good at ambush and fast attack tactics.

Punch Daggers and lots of em.

May or may not ride really big warboars that are either native or were brought by Orkz.

Very brutish, can be surmised as not here to save the galaxy but leave it colder.

Space Wolfish in their bloodthirsty nature, but Iron Hands in their stoic and ruthless conduct.

Draws cultural inspiration from all the great Gothic, Celtic, and Germanic tribes. Vandals, Iceni, Vandals, Visigoths, Suebi, Franks.