Yggdrasil wrote:
Maybe everything is supposed to be one possible truth out of many aspects, whether it is from an "omniscient narrator" (I guess many looneys in the 40k universe would gladly embrace the title), a so-called Inquisitorial report or heretical writings on a corrupted city's walls...

Ok, as you pointed out, I guess we went astray far too much in this...

So, how about going back to our 2 lost legions?

Loricatus Aurora wrote:OK im going to try and inject some new vigor into this thread as I think it has merit

But on one condition, if anyone Kravus included gets any input into the SM codex they need to insist tactical marines can take chainswords off the battle barge next time to go with their bolt pistols and bolters.

So I read pages 1, 2, 10 and 11 of this thread and it seems for that the agreed point is pre revolution Russia. Im not an expert but have read a little.

First point I think needs to be agreed is primarchs 19 and 20 DID get found and chapters DID get made from their geneseed.

So lets say we are working on 19 and using Russian inspiration.

One of the really big deals in Russian history is the adoption of orthodox christianity from the crumbling Byzantine. This is good as orthodox means lots of icons, gold and ceremony. So we have a little bit of black templar in there. More importantly however is the sense of destiny. After the fall of Constantinople, many regarded the Grand Prince of Moscow as the successor to the Byzantine Emperors.

If we pick a point in Russian history as a guide, Grad Prince Ivan III of Moscow, known as 'The Great' ruled during the 15th century. Why him? He trebled the size of the Grand Duchy of Moscow, ended the domination of the Golden Horde and centralised the power of the princes, enabling his successor, Ivan IV, called 'The Terrible', to create the autocratic office of Tzar.

So this gives us a supreme statesman, Ivan the Great, to model our chapter on. Here is an exerpt from Wiki

Ivan tenaciously pursued the unifying policy of his predecessors. Nevertheless, he was cautious to the point of timidity. He avoided as far as possible any violent collision with his neighbors until all the circumstances were exceptionally favorable, always preferring to attain his ends gradually and circuitously. The Grand Duchy of Moscow had by this time become a compact and powerful state, whilst her rivals had grown weaker, a state of affairs very favorable to the speculative activity of a statesman of Ivan III's peculiar character. Before he died he made an impressive program for, centered around and directed by, Italian artists and craftsmen. His plan was able to make new buildings in Kremlin and the walls were strengthened and furnished with towers and gates. Ivan III reigned for forty three years, dying on October 27, 1505
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ivan_III_of_Russia

Key here is the manoeuvre warfare style - never hit the strong points but flow around them, only engage when you are certain of a win and all that. Far from the stereotypical kiev charge, we have here the foundations for a Legion that seriously appreciates risk.

To me this is instrumental in shaping the story why they were expunged from imperial records.

Spoiler warning

In the same way in Thousand Sons Magnus does what he needs to do to ensure the survival of his legion from the flesh change, perhaps we have a similar situation where the legion as a whole chose exile rather than extinction.

What would that mean? A fracture in the complete indoctrination of the primarch. A son who is not prepared to extinguish his entire tribe as part of his father's bigger picture. A prodigal son? A little bit Alpha Legion-ish perhaps.

Im leaning towards less a Chaos reasoning and more a legion that turned from the Emperor of its own free will.

Enough from me. What does the audience think. If there enough faff in this to create a whole new chapter of GW faff?

Corennus wrote:Primarch: Aurelius

Affiliation: Renegade Legion

Chaos God: Chaos Unified

Powers: Invisibility (11th Primarch's supposed power)

Legion Name: Original - Emperor's Wraiths.
Chaos Name: Dark Wraiths.

Fighting style: Hit=and=run deep strikes followed by overwhelming firepower.

Heavy reliance on fast attack bikes/raptors with Havoc/Defiler support.
VERY FEW TERMINATORS.

Loricatus Aurora wrote:Sourclams - So why bother with the cursed founding? Why take any chapter and not just 'space marines'?

I can only speak for myself: Because in the detail is the richness I love about 40k. Tolkien too for that matter.


Automatically Appended Next Post:
I really like this one

Assuming we happy to go with the Russian theme and happy to take our lead from old mate 15th century Grand Prince above, this idea of Corennus works well.

I dont think they need to have converted to chaos, merely rejected being a part of the imperium and their allegience to the emperor.

If thats cool then instead of dark wraiths, something like galactic wraiths or wraiths of (homeworld)

Corennus wrote:Primarch: Aurelius

Affiliation: Renegade Legion

Chaos God: Chaos Unified

Powers: Invisibility (11th Primarch's supposed power)

Legion Name: Original - Emperor's Wraiths.
Chaos Name: Dark Wraiths.

Fighting style: Hit=and=run deep strikes followed by overwhelming firepower.

Heavy reliance on fast attack bikes/raptors with Havoc/Defiler support.
VERY FEW TERMINATORS.

If there is no chaos connection they could function like the rangers of the north function in the Shire, unseen protectors who sield their part of the human space from some of the nastier stuff out there.

Reading the 1st HH book, Horus comes across a really civilised human civilisation that has embraced aliens. A lot of the way they think, in my reading of the author's bias, is superior to the rawness of the young imperium.

So if you like rather than running from the imperium there could have been a fundamental disagreement with the way the imperium went about business, thus they defected and became a part of another human civilisation.

Not a threat to the emperor, although that may have weakened the superiority of his armies by virtue of having to use one of his 20 legions to even match his lost one and THEN more to take on whatever other standing armies they had - thus the easiest policy was to leave them alone.

This could be interesting because by the time word reaches the primarch of the destruction the Traitor has inflicted and the emp's enthronement on the golden throne, they could send a delegation / return.. Or there could be civil war so the lost legion leaves the previously perceived ethical superiority of their adopted human civilisation, which could have been the primarch's birth civilisation..

Keen to hear if others think this is worth digging into deeper.

The hull of the massive vessel screamed as it made the transition to normal space. The blinding brilliance of the Empyrean was torn away by the bleak backdrop of reality. For a moment everything was still. The silence was broken by the shipmaster, “Translation to normal space complete. Confirm we’ve arrived in system 376, and how long it took us to arrive. Who else made it through?”

A chorus of reports came from the sensor galley as they called each translation point, and each ship as they appeared in reality. Ivan Mirus listened intently, but relaxed as the Phalanx’s arrival was documented. Once the last of the fleet’s ships was accounted for, he moved to stand next to Shipmaster Borgvich. “Does one ever get used to that?”

“Primarch, I’ve been commanding ships for over half my life, but I still distrust the Warp.” Borgvich glanced at the giant: he was clad in a violet robe with white trim to match the Legion’s colors. Turning back to his console, he skimmed over the initial scans of the system’s planets. The system was bathed in artificial radio waves, with an unnatural number of planets perfect for sustaining human life and the remainder covered in orbital platforms. “Well, Primarch, you wanted to meet a lost fragment of humanity? From the look of it, this system is filled with them,” he said, and beckoned for Ivan to read the scans himself.

“They seem to be very well off. This is going to make our mission very difficult. How long until we are able to contact them?”

The shipmaster stroked his chin and watched scores of command crew moved with practiced grace. Their synchronized dance was almost beautiful. “Assuming they haven’t noticed us and come looking, it will be 62 hours before we are in range to hail their nearest moon.”

A woman called out above the din, “Hail from the Phalanx, Shipmaster. Shall I put it on the holo-projector or las-line?”

“On the projector, if you please.” Borgvich leaned toward Mirus. “What do you think he wants?”

“Dorn wants to see how my instinct compares to his experience. He wants to measure me so he’ll know how difficult it will be to bend me to his perspective. I knew men like him before the Great Crusade. His is a subtle stubbornness.” Mirus whispered to Borgvich.

“That is down-right cynical. You barely know him, and he is your brother!” the shipmaster hissed.

Mirus smiled. “If I’ve learned anything in my life, it is that families in power are only family for formalities. I’ll try to suspend such speculation, but I’ll be damned if I let my guard down.”

The lights dimmed and the dais in the center of the bridge was lit. Rogal Dorn’s stern visage stared at them through the veil of light. “Brother, I see that your fleet has made it intact. I assume you’ve seen the preliminary scans.”

“Doctrine says we should make first contact and order their submission.”

“You don’t agree? This is your first conquest as part of the Great Crusade. It isn’t like unifying your home system, trust me. You have resources you don’t yet fully understand.” Dorn’s fraternal patronage was almost sincere.

“No, brother, we will approach this by the books. Shipmaster Borgvich has ordered our fleet to approach the nearest moon so we can make first contact. Our projections estimate 62 hours until arrival. Is that accurate?” Mirus replied, his tone calculated and even.

Dorn looked resigned and didn’t push the issue. “A civilization this advanced will have noticed us. I expect a response within 24 hours. Otherwise this is going to be a very dull conquest.”

“If this turns out to be “dull,” can I expect you will let the Second take the brunt of the action?” Real eagerness was creeping into Mirus, like he hadn’t experienced since he first met their father.

Dorn was about to reply when klaxons started blaring on both of the ship’s bridges. There was panicked, but concise yelling from the sensor galley. “Thirty-four contacts just appeared within 400 kilometers! Readings indicate many of them are as large as the Vengeance class. One vessel is massive; it seems to be disrupting our sensors, sir, but we estimate at least one thousand kilometers from prow to stern!”

Borgvich blanched. “Defensive maneuvers, but do not fire!”

Dorn’s image began to waver and it was replaced by a man not older than 30. His ears were slightly pointed, his jaw angular. “Primarch Ivan Mirus, Primarch Rogal Dorn, welcome to our home.”

“Are you Eldar? What have you done with the humans of this system?” Mirus clenched his fists.

“I am human enough. There are Exodites among us, and many others you have yet to encounter. I am Kore'sev, of the Rekha Di’gare. We wish to share the cultures we have assimilated, and show you what we have learned.” Then his lips did not move as he said, We know why you have come, and ask for our autonomy in return for our willing servitude. Your brother will disagree, but you must subvert him if you wish to avoid bloodshed.

Dorn’s voice was slightly distorted, but his rage was unmistakable. “We are agents of the Emperor of Mankind come to offer this ultimatum: all humans who forsake the alien and pledge themselves to our cause will be embraced. All else shall be killed with the alien.”

“A measure of tact, Dorn,” Mirus watched the image of the man, or whatever it truly was, carefully. “These are not the barbarians clinging to false deities that I have read about in your records. They have received tangible benefits for their suppleness. Our father could use every advantage. We could share with them, and both be stronger for it.”

“These are your true colors? Our father needs not the help of aliens!”

“And until I hear such from his lips, we will not spurn such an opportunity for gain.”

The holo-gram spoke: “Thank you for your leniency, Primarch Mirus.”

Mirus’ response was quick and decisive. “Do not presume this is truly a stay of execution. I have no reason to trust you, merely a curiosity. How can you grantee any meeting you present isn’t a trap?”

“Please, take all the precautions you need. Bring your soldiers, bring your equipment. Proceed to the seventh planet, and meet our delegates on the island whose circumference is 431 kilometeres.” Then again he spoke without speaking. But do not allow Rogal Dorn to accompany you to the surface.

The image of the man disappeared, and one by one, so did the alien vessels.