Angelis Noctem

"Ask not the sun why he sets, why we shroud his light away. Or why he hides his glowing gaze. For night turns crimson gold to grey. For silent falls the guilty sun, as day to dark does fall. One simple truth, they dare not speak, their light can only blind and burn. No mercy for the guilty, bring down their lying sun. Spill blood so silvery black by night, upon their faces pale white. The moon, brings their end. The dawn will never rise again.""High Sentinel Eremille in the wake of the Black Star Rift [ALL FURTHER RECORDS EXPUNGED BY ORDER OF THE EMPEROR]. Sung as a battle hymn, the cadence was soon commonplace throughout the Angelis Noctem, its meaning lost on those outside the legion. " The Angelis Noctem, sometimes refered to as the Celestial Host, are one part of the XIXth Legiones Astartes, one of twenty such forces to stride the galaxy, attempting to bring the entire galaxy under the control of the Imperium of Mankind during the mighty undertaking known as the Great Crusade. As characterises both halves of the Celestial Host, the Angelis Noctem are diametrically opposed to their counterpart, the Supernal Seraphs, being as different from them as the night is from the day, in truth having nothing in common beyond their twinned Primarch's.

Led by their Primarch Nocterra, the legion was seemingly unconcerned with the act of planetary conquest, the Angelis Noctem had by far the lowest number of successful compliance to their name, barely a handful of worlds being recorded in the Imperial Honour roles as having been brought into the Imperium by the midnight warriors, something the braggards of the Supernal Seraphs were never slow to bring up to inflate their own self-worth. However, this was not due to lack of ability, the Angeis Noctem as capable as any legion, but rather due to a differing focus, one stemming from their Primarch entierly, and allowed to continue by the secretive word of the Emperor himself.

It was a well known fact that the time known as Old Night, or the Age of Strife, had torn the ancient human empire asunder, and yet what was less known was just what had been birthed in those tumultuous times, creatures and horrors unimaginable by even the most hardened of men. These things were given life by mad scientists gone ary or Artificial Intelligences risen against their former masters, able to bring entire systems to their knees with ease. Nor was such carnage merely limited to the material plain, psykers having become far more prolific during those dark years, power overwhelming many of their kind, turning them into, mercifully rare, gateways, through which manifestations of condenced warp power could be drawn, taking on the guise of ancient daemons of humanities nightmares.

The Emperor's own Custodes fought these beasts, the Warders of the Vaults of Rython specialising in the capture of the eldritch terrors from the depths of Old Night, and it was alongside these warriors that Nocterra and her legion found themselves fighting numerous times throughout the Great Crusade, Nocterra having proven her ability to stand against such threats upon her own homeworld, her legion now following her against this new foe. When word reached the legion of ancient entities birthed by humanities hubris, the Angelis Noctem would deploy. If the skeins of fate and warp-craft revealed that an untrained mnd would soon become a doorway, the Angelis Noctem would deploy. Holding nothing as sacred beyond their own acts, Nocterra and her children fought such things without reservation, notions of morality long since put to grass, caring little for civilian casualties on the worlds on which they fought, even when those self-same casualties came from the legions own blades.

More than once, Imperial Commanders called for the Angelis Noctem to be censored for their actions, seeing only the outcome of the legons work and not the cause for its necessity, knowledge of the foe they fought heavily supressed by the legion and the Emperor himself, yet each time such a call went out, it fell upon deaf ears, the legion seemingly protected from their own "misdeeds" by a favourable Emperor, further driving a wedge between the Angelis Noctem and many of their cousin legions.

To the surprise of many, when the Secession broke out, the Angelis Noctem were not amongst those who sided with the Emperor. Indeed, they were amongst the quickest to throw off the veneer of loyalty to the master of Mankind, taking the war to his forces with charactesitic speed, psychic manipulation and deverstaing drop assaults before fading away once more. Though they were smal in number, the XIXth soon became a feared and reviled legion, responsible for the worst attrocities committed in the name of victory. Many called from them to be reined in as they had done during the Great Crusade, but Nocterra cared little for such concerns, none now having dominion over her or her actions, the Dark Lady continuing to fight in her own, brutally effective manner.

The Great Crusade
Fate is a cruel mistress, betrayal a child of many sires, and of the latter, no other could claim such a providence as the XIXth Legion, the Celestial Host of the Imperium of Mankind. No other was so divided amongst themselves, for who else, save those of the IIIrd had such a split nature. Unlike the Umbral Blades however, the twin lords of the Celestial Host were never in agreement, as different in temperament as they were in their looks, the lord of day and the lady of night. In hindsight, perhaps even in foresight for some, the betrayal that ripped the XIXth Legion apart was inevitable, a matter of when, not if. Were any to know the truth behind the Primarch’s origins, they would know how right they were.The last legion to be reunited with their Primarch, the Celestial Host, more commonly known as their split-down names of the Angelis Noctem and Supernal Seraphs, were ever at odds with their own nature, making it all but impossible to grasp a standard modus operandi of the legion as a whole, leading to many of the Logisticae Imperialis to instead treat them as two entirely different entities. The Seraphs were masters of ranged combat, focusing on blinding plasma fire, while the Angelis Noctem were assault troops of the highest order, dropping from the sky in conjured, artificial nights. Truely, the only unifying features of the XIXth Legion were their extreme psychic dominance, and their utter hatred of those who stood within their own legion, but along opposite Primarch lines.

The Warlocks of the Imperium
Twenty legiones were envisioned by the Emperor of Mankind at the dawning of the Imperium, created in the waning years of the Unification of Terra before the Great Crusade took to the stars. Almost all of these legions saw action on the surface of Terra during those days, even the secretive XIIth, XVIIth and XXth Legions known as the Triglav, were active in this time, only one legion left, the XIXth.

The Emperor gave no word to this delay, the XIXth’s geneseed ready for implantation, the preparations made as with all legions and not held in secret like those of the Triglav, and yet it was not until M30.797 that they would move forward and take in their alpha recruits, one hundred warriors from across the conquered worlds of the Sol System, sent to the geneforges of the Selenar Gene-Cults. Mere hours after the last ship arrived, the Emperor’s foresight proved correct once more, Warp Storms the likes of which had torn the galaxy apart during the Age of Strife surged back into existence once more, a resurgence of their fury that engulfed the cradle of Mankind for what would become the final time during this age of the galaxy.

This brief surge of Warp activity generated psychic convergences all across the globe, resulting in spontaneous outbreaks of psychotic violence and mutation, and yet for those warriors of the XIXth, bolstered by their gene-sires genetic and psychic might, it had another effect, anchoring their minds to the warp, bringing them clarity even in such darkness. When the storms blew themselves out, the alpha intake stood ready, one hundred strong, each a potent psyker in their own right. Combat trials took place for these Alpha intakes as it did with all other legions, the XIXth proving themselves enough to see their numbers bolstered by subsequent intakes, soon three thousand warriors standing ready to join a Crusade that had already begun, the other nineteen legions already having pushed out into the stars, bringing the first worlds into Imperial Compliance.

The legion was not created to crusade as other legions did, already issues clear and present within their geneseed making the prospect of an expansive XIXth legion little more than an empty hope. However, due to their nature as warp sensitive, even the rawest recruit having a sixth sense for the warp even if they were not full psykers themselves, offered them opportunities that no other legion had. Rarely would they take part in compliance actions, instead acting as an interdiction force for a foe far more insidious than mundane xenos and human empires; their own kind.

The Sisters of Silence were already the renowned witch hunters of the Imperium, pariah’s able to resist and shut down a psykers connection to the warp, but where they were warrior-investigators, hunters and gaolers, tasked with seeking out and, apprehending and processing psykers from the human population of the ever-expanding Imperium, returning them to the Divisio Astra Telepathica for assessment and disposition, the XIXth would have but a single goal; to destroy such foes.

They would become the hunters of their own, using their sense of the warp and their own powers to identify and annihilate any who sought to utilise the immaterium against the Imperium, willingly or not, and as they joined the Great Crusade, they proved how effective they were at this role. Few worlds fell to the small XIXth Legion, but hundreds continued to stand through their actions, psychic incidents cut down before they grew to engulf worlds. Due to the nature of their targets, the legion soon gravitated towards a fast moving hit and run force, jump packs allowing for rapidly closing the gap, allowing for force weapons to be brought to bear most effectively.

If any thought this was a sign of the legions meteoric rise or rapidly growing power however, they were soon proved wrong, something seeming to change in the geneseed of the legion as the warp storms subsided. From an implantation rate of one hundred aspirants to one hundred successful Astartes, to a success rate implantation of barely thirty percent, the majority of those who underwent the procedure now dying in agonising pain, their bone structure rapidly expanding far faster than their bodies could compensate for, a portent of what was to come for the legion. By the time the Great Crusade began, other legions striding into the dark, some numbering in the tens of thousands, the  XIXth could muster but two thousand, the smallest of all their fellows, a source of constant shame amongst their number.

The Reapers of Bone
Despite their diminutive size, barely above combat effectiveness as laid down in the years following the creation of the Ist legion, the XIXth conducted themselves well during the early years of the Great Crusade, each warrior within the psychic brotherhood resolving that if they could not be numerous, they would instead attain the highest levels of skill that was possible for an Astartes to possess, each warrior fast becoming a veteran of dozens of battles, their casualty rates amongst the lowest of any legion. This was both a tactical choice and a strategic one, for the legion simply could not afford to take great numbers of casualties as others could.

For all this however, there was one fate the XIXth could not escape, no matter their martial skill or psychic prowess. Indeed, it was particularly prominent in those warriors who pushed their powers too far, digging deep into their psychic reserves and awakening a terrible curse that lay dormant in every single warrior of their genetic line.

It was known by many names, the Final Battle, Elysium’s End, but most knew it by its official name; the Ossification. A condition unique to the XIXth Legion, it saw warriors who relied too heavily on their not inconsiderable psychic prowess begin to change. Focusing as they did on biomancy, this power soon began to run rampant, the warrior’s bones strengthening and swelling in size, slowly beginning to subsume the entirety of the body; skin, muscle, cartilage, organs. There was nothing that escaped this spread, and while in the early stages of the condition the results were purely beneficial, creating warriors nearly as tough without their armour as they were while within it, few ever thought the Ossification was anything but a curse.

Soon, this rapid growth began to slow the warrior, joints seizing, reaction times slowing, pain becoming a constant companion to the warrior afflicted. From here, the condition only worsened, warriors often dying in combat as their slower reflexes left them vulnerable, while for those who survived, the condition continued to expand, sealing them within their own boney prisons, locked inside their own minds, unable to move, unable to scream unable to die without aid. In such a situation, death was a mercy, administered by the legions apothecaries or, in the worst situations where the conditions had gone on for too long, via the application of weaponry; bolters, power swords, even sometimes more powerful weapons, no expense spared by the warriors of the XIXth to give these warriors a final peace.

Casualties afflicted by the Ossification accounted for the vast majority of the losses within the XIXth, any warrior who perished while afflicted marked down as killed by the curse, regardless of what finally cut their thread. As other legions grew ever larger, the XIXth remained tiny, only their position as a force not designed for full frontal combat as the other legions were saving them from the ignominious fate of being relegated to the second line or attached to another legion while their own numbers stabilised.

The Celestial Twins
By M30.934, nineteen of the legions had been reunited with their Primarch’s, many reformed under the new lords as their numbers swelled, making new legends to be forever remembered by the Imperium. For the XIXth however, their Primarch still had yet to reveal himself, the legion beginning to show the strain of the lack of a lord. Morale was low, hope giving way to despair. What if they never discovered their lost liege? What if he had perished upon his world as Ulysses of the Imperial Wardens had, perhaps even a world already taken by the Imperium, his passing unremarkable and forgotten by history. The Emperor’s message to the fleet of the XIXth in M30.938 changed all this.

Suddenly, the Primarch had been found, the XIXth's spirits soaring instantly as they turned from their current campaigns and made for the Galactic East, travelling far beyond the ring fo the galaxy and the extent of the Imperium, guided by a shining star in the warp. It took the legion close to two years to finally disengage fully and reach the world, waiting eagerly for the Emperor to reveal their lord to them, standing on the designated parade square for days on end, before finally, a radiant being appeared before them.

At this point, none in the legion knew anything about their Primarch, or Primarchs as the case indeed was. When Solaris made himself known, glowing like the stars he named himself after, none doubted he was their lord, and yet none knelt, something holding them back. Perhaps it was the warrior that stood beside Solaris, an Astartes in yellow armour, the first to bear Solaris’s geneseed, and the first of the soon to be renowned Supernal Seraphs, or perhaps it was the lack of a full genetic link, but in that moment, a rift formed between the veterans of the legion and Solaris, one never to be bridged.

With Solaris’s disappereance, a second being arrived, and this time, the Wardens knelt unreservedly before the dark majesty of Nocterra. Unique amongst the pantheon, Nocterra was not a warrior in the guise of a male, but a female, as dark and unknowable as the void, and yet to the assembled warriors of the XIXth, she was their everything, none hesitating as they were renamed as her Angelis Nocetm.

Now blessed with not one Primarch but two, the XIXth began a rapid expansion as seen within all legions reunited with their lord. Renamed as the Celestial Host, the legion was split along the lines of their Primarch’s, a far cry from the unity of the Umbral Blades under their own twinned Lords. The Angelis Noctem would continue as the Emperor had forged them, coupled with their own predisposition towards terror tactics, and heightened by Nocterra’s own prowess to become some of the greatest drop shock troopers the galaxy had ever known, striking from the night as they girded themselves in the nightmares of their foes. For the Supernal Seraphs however, those new warriors raised from Solaris’s geneseed rather than Nocterra’s as the XIXth had been, the opposite was focused upon, ranged deverstation, often with psychically infused plasma weaponry, was their specialisation, prefering to showcase their abilities from afar, leaning on their considerable psychic powers to bring entire worlds into the Imperium in awe of such warrior mystics.

All legions had those they did not enjoy the company of those they would only fight alongside if there was no other choice. The Hunters Eternal and Immaculate Sons for one, but no other legion had such division within their own ranks, the Angelis Noctem and Supernal Seraphs hating one another with undisguised malice. Rarely, if ever, would the two branches of the legion fight together throughout the Great Crusade, despite the exceptional synergy the two would have undoubtedly brought to the field of battle, specialising as they did in utterly different areas of warfare. It is ironic then that the greatest actions that included both the Angelis Noctem and the Supernal Seraphs did not occur when they fought together, but instead when they tore each other apart during the Black Star Rift.

Nocterra
When the Emperor set about creating the Sire of the XIXth Legion, he poured into them his own Psychic might, forging a Primarch who would be closer to his ultimate power than any of his brothers, a singular example of Psychic might within the Primarch’s pantheon. As with all their kind however, the vengeful powers of the warp played their own hand, scattering the young primarch’s to the four corners of the galaxy, one in particular taking an interest in the young sire of the XIXth. For an eternity and an instant, the gods of the warp whispered in the mind of the young Primarch, always being rebutted, but always worming deeper, never able to push beyond the surface. Had this continued, the gods may even have been denied his prize, but the weaver of fates was not one to surrender easily, nor to allow any problem to defeat him for long.

As the Primarch’s pod finally crashed through the veil of the warp above the world that would become the Primarch’s home, the Chaos Gods lashed out with but a fragment of his power, the tendrils of energy slicing at the Primarch’s very soul, splitting it in half in one fell swoop. Suddenly, the being that had once been singular was now two, each a twin of the other. Into one went the Primarch’s fire, his power and righteousness given to him by the Emperor himself, that which had temporarily resisted even the Weaver of Fates himself. But into the other twin went the Primarch’s spite, his ambitions, his grand designs. In him, the gods  had crafted the perfect host for his power, one forever touched, however unknowingly, by his power, a being of pure psychic might who forever belonged to the ruinous powers.

Though Nocterra was created in the guise of a male as had all the Primarchs, something changed within the young child as the pod crashed to the ground of Noxim, two being leaving where before there had been only one. The first, that which would become Solaris, took on the guise of the older brother, the one who would lead the pair through this new land, and who would ensure that all knew their names, something he soon forgot, ensuring only one of their names was truly known.

For the other however, Nocterra to future generations, such was not desired, the young primarch wishing to remain in the shadows, to watch first before acting rashly. The other would not be dissuaded however, dragging his kin alongside him. Just as they were night and day in their outlook on life, so too did Nocterra realise that they were far more different than simply a disagreement in personalities, and in that moment, a more fundamental change was wrought, the great psionic potential of the child moulded his, or rather her, flesh anew, Nocterra forever standing as the sister to Solaris, never one to rise to her brothers boasts, always watching, planning the move that would see the easiest path to their goal unfold, without taking undue risks.

In those early days, the still unnamed Nocterra had little sway over her impulsive brother, contenting herself with following his lead for the time being. However, when the unnamed Solaris made plain his plans to use the mighty orbital artifact known only as the Mantle of Deliverance to give light to a world which had never known such, Nocterra finally stepped forth and made plain her disagreements. For days the pair sparred, the heavens cracking in the display of their power, those who dwelt on Noxim sure that the gods themselves were angered by some transgression. When finally the fight had ended, it was Solaris who stood victorious, his immense psychic power radiating off him as he descended from the flattened mountains he had done battle upon. As he walked, he cast his mind upwards, grasping the Mantle and infusing it with his power, the moon resisting for but a moment, before its light rays exploded outwards, bathing the planet, and Solaris, in the light of a star. Those who saw Solaris’s descent wept tears of joy as they fell to their knees, many blinded by his radiance, but all chanting the same two words; Solaris! Lightbringer! Solaris! Lightbringer!

So was the first twin named, Solaris, the Lightbringer, God of the Sun. Few saw his sister however, walking in the long shadow he now cast. Bruised from the fight yet already planning for the future, Nocterra’s eyes went not to the light, but to the darkness. What dwelt there that may now be awoken? She did not have to wait long to find out.

Terrible creatures from the time before Old Night who slept in the darkness now found their homes invaded by the uncaring light. When the sun had passed, they awoke to wreak havoc on the populace, none able to stand against them. None, save Nocterra.

Night after night did stand alone, Solaris dismissing her claims that the beasts were a clear and present threat, too focused on the adulation of his people. The death toll rose as inevitably, some creatures got into the city, Nocterra not able to stop them all, but here, she was finally seen.

As she fought against their kind, others flocked to her side. Though small in number they took up weapons and helped to drive the beasts back. Soon, more flocked to this new being who protected then without need for thanks or praise, though far less than those who flocked to Solaris. Soon, there was a new god of Noxim, one of the night and moon, not of the sun. So to was Nocterra named, stepping into her new role as the Dark Lady.

Finally, the inevitable happened, and the Emperor arrived on Noxim, his own radiance eclipsing even that of Solaris. The pair were raised to the legion, the Emperor gifting them their own legion to rule over, while supplying scores upon scores of psykers to keep the artificial ‘sun’ of Noxim ablaze as Solaris moved away. For Solaris, this was a great blessing, promising to bring light to yet more worlds in the name of the Emperor, but for Nocterra, it was naught but another task to be undertaken, the Emperor entrusting her with the knowledge few others would ever possess. The creatures on Noxim were not the only ones of their kind, nor were they even the greatest, the Emperor’s own Custodes combating them at times, the order of the Shadowkeepers striking against these most terrible of foes. As the XIXth Legion into the Celestial Host, Nocterra and her chosen Angelis Noctem would continue her ever-appointed task, aiding the Shadowkeepers in their eternal war against the terror of ancient man.

Taking up arms for the Imperium, Nocterra strode onto the galactic stage not to the thunderous applause and blaring fanfare that greeted most other Primarchs, her twin included, but instead with the quiet whisper of night eternal. She was no master assassin like the shadowy figure of Haqis'rahk, twin Primarch of the Umbral Blades, and yet where she moved, the night followed, wrapping her in its darkness, veiling her from others sight. Indeed, for a time few even knew she existed, even her brothers not meeting her the moment of her unification with the Imperium, the light shining from Solaris obfuscating her own form entierly. When she did finally become known, little new truthes were brought to light, Nocterra and her legion ever the introverted sort, keeping themselves, their knowledge and skills, and most importantly their chosen prey, strictly to themselves.

Many dismissed Nocterra for this, believing she skulked in the shadows for fear of the light. Nocterra cared little for their assessment of her, indeed she perpetuated it, ensuring that she would remain ever overlooked, allowing her to continue her appointed task free of gainsayers or those who would hold her back. When pushed however, such as during the Great Secession, Nocterra held nothing back, proving herself one of the most compitent duelists of the age, the match for any of her brothers, her fightning style, mentality and desires a mystery to all, giving her the supreme advantage on the battlefield. Nocterra cared nothing for 'morality' of lesser beings, as evidenced by her seemingly sadistic tendancies or predilection towards terror tactics. This was not strictly true, Nocterra gaining no pleasure from the acts she took, they were simply tasks to be completed, lives of those below her to be cut short, for while Nocterra claims she is nothing like her hated twin, she knows the undeniable truth of the matter; both Primarchs were cut from the same cloth, and no matter how much she attempts to bury it, the personality, pride and sense of superiority that Solaris showcases and broadcasts with glee, is inexorably a reflection of her own mentality, Nocterra simply being utterly secure in her own ascendance, needing no validation from others, while Solaris forever craved such adulation.

Ancient and Extra-Dimensional Threats
During the bloody years of the Unification Wars, when the Emperor launched His campaign to finally crush the last of the techno-barbarian warlords and tyrants that had held sway over Mankind during Old Night, and later, during the galaxy-wide campaign to reunite the disparate worlds of Mankind, the Emperor encountered many technological terrors, unholy constructs and vile entities, created by both human and xenos alike, as if they had been dredged up from pure nightmare.

The Emperor knew that such aberrant technology could not be allowed to fall into the hands of the unwary, nor could such foul aberrations be allowed to walk amongst the worlds of Mankind, for they would be humanity's inevitable downfall. In His wisdom, the Emperor charged a detachment of His own Legio Custodes to act as both wardens and gaolers -- to hold eternal vigil over the horrors they had encountered -- and to lock them away deep beneath the massive Imperial Palace complex on Terra itself. These items and captured entities would be sequestered to the Vaults of Rython, where they would be held within rune-locked portals, and warded by the power of sanctic circles -- forbidden to all save their eternal guardians, the so-called Warders of Rython and the Emperor Himself.

Or at least, that was the belief at the onset of the Great Crusade amongst those few privy to the Warders of Rython's work. No Astartes, not even a Primarch, was made privy to their task, nor permitted to know of the existence of the Vaults of Rython beneath the Imperial palace. this changed with the coming of Nocterra. Suddenly, a Primarch existed who not only knew of the horrors that Old Night had spawned, but had fought against them, besting them without the might of the Warders behind her. The Emperor took note of this, seeing it as an opportunity to free some of his beloved Custodes from their eternal duty, the Wardens restructuring to now 'aid' the Angelis Noctem as they and their Primarch took on this task, in truth watching and policing the legion, to ensure that none of their number would fall to their own weaknesses, the warriors of the Custodes looking down on their inferiors with near universal ill-disgused contempt.

Spurned on by Nocterra however, the Angelis Noctem did not faulter in their task, their minds bolstered by psychic shields, able to withstand the terrors that now assaulted them. New entities and artefacts were soon brought to heel or annihilated by the Astartes, contained and transported to the Vaults of Rython, the Custodes accepting these new additions with grim resolve, the dark cells filled with these new aquisitions. Though they would never see the Astartes as anything more than pawns, and the Primarch's as anything beynd soiled upstart children, the Angelis Noctem had earnt the Legio's respect, fellow warriors standing together against the worst of the galaxy.

The Fall of the Irathi
The Fall of the Irathi is a recorded compliance action that took place in M30.940, two years after Nocterra and Solaris were found by the Imperium, shortly after the pair took command of the XIXth Legion, Nocterra claiming the veterans of the old legion as the core of her new Angelis Noctem while Solaris built his new Supernal Seraphs from scratch, his geneseed allowing for the rapid expansion of the branch of the legion. While history would forever remember the fall of the Irathi, it being the first compliance action the XIXth undertook under one of their own Primarchs, the exact specifics of the action have been lost, or more accurately, purged from all records.

The Irathi were an hyper-advanced race from the world of Iratha; scholars and philosophers to rival the ancient Eldar, their world crusted with beautiful cities of crystal that kissed the sky. Travel to other words was a simple matter to them, their psionics guiding them in all things, allowing them to reach out to younger races, teaching them the  rudiments of civilisation and technology.

For all this however, the Irathi had a secret that even they were not aware of; the crystalline technology that they had worked into every aspect of their society was not a naturally occurring phenomenon, but instead seeded onto Iratha in ages past by ancient humanity, and created on the genelooms of some of the most maddened minds of the era. This crystal, known to the Angelis Noctem in the years after the compliance as the Omnicron was not a boon, but a curse, a sentient being that had enslaved the Irathi with ease, the aliens not even knowing they were under its thrall. Every world the Irathi reached, the crystalline entity spread itself further, enslaving more and more, consuming their minds and growing ever more powerful.

All of this combined meant that while the Irathi themselves were not a numerous species, content to only hold mastery over a single world, the Omnicron itself held power on dozens of worlds. Able to subsume the minds of those it controlled, it modified their bodies alongside their minds, great crystalline plates spreading across their forms, comparable to terminator armor in their durability. Energy blasts were shot from seemingly empty hands, the terrifying energies of old night coruscating across the crystal bodies of the host. In effect, the Omnicron could turn any population, no matter how peaceful, into a terrifyingly powerful standing army, capable of facing the very worst of the galaxy. Perhaps that had been the idea behind its initial construction, and perhaps it had taken on a life of its own. To the Angelis Noctem however, it mattered little, Nocterra’s sons and the Warders of Rython focusing merely on its containment, destruction or capture, the ‘why’ of its existence was wholly unimportant.

Without warning, a small portion of the Angelis Noctem smashed into the Omnicron’s empire, the ancient crystal nexus reacting to the sudden invasion with predictable fury, and within mere days, over a dozen worlds had raised up against the interlopers. The Angelis Noctem, even with the aid of the Custodes, could not face such a foe in open battle, but nor did they intend to. From Angelis Noctem ships came the dark form of Imperial Army landing craft, slamming into a frontier world and disgorging hundreds of thousands of mind scrubbed Ogryn’s, the abhumans augmented with terrifying cybernetic weapons akin to the Charonites of the Solar Auxilia. They were blunt weapons, but they drew attention, the Omnicron convinced that such foes were the true threat, the bulk of the Angelis Noctem, Nocterra and the Custodes having kept from the first battles, hiding their forces main strength.

With the Omnicron occupied with the Ogryn rampage, the Angelis Noctem in full struck for Iratha, the world only defended now by the small number of Irathi, and yet even with such small numbers, the Irathi and the Omnicron were still a formidable foe. There would be no second chances, no wars of attrition against such a foe. The Angelis Noctem would deploy and they would win, or they would die, there was no third option. Not a single warrior under Nocterra’s command wavered as the Primarch leapt from the Stormbird as it broke the worlds atmosphere, ten thousand Astartes and close to a thousand Custodes following in her wake, each warrior equipped with a jump pack and pushing their wargear to the max, powering faster and faster towards the ground.

The effect of so many slamming into the ground was akin to a Macro cannon shell, Omnicron augmented Irathi in the landing zone simply shattering as the assault force charged. The Angelis Noctem fought with a fury of a legion with something to prove, unwilling to take a single step back in front of their mistress, while the Custodes fought with their own traditional detachment, each warrior a whirlwind of cold murder, and yet for all their skill, which was undoubtably greater than any amongst the astartes, it was Nocterra who forged the way forward, her speed unmatched, her ferocity unbridaled, and her blades singing a deadly song as they hacked through even the largest of terrible monstrosities.

Within mere minutes, the Irathi forces defending the crystal matrix had fallen, thousands of their number lying dead, though the cost was great amongst the Angelis Noctem, even some of the Custodes falling to rise no more. Directly threatened for the first time, the Omnicron finally stirred itself, the great crystalline nexus beginning to move, slowly at first, but soon rising to show its true scale, filling the sky as the mountain range it had occupied seemed to defy gravity, floating upwards from the ground. Dozens of corescating beams of energy, far more powerful than the foot soldiers had unleashed, raked the ground, each beam claiming the lives of dozens of Astartes and Custodes, weapons fire bouncing off its solidifying hide. The assault looked poised to fail, the Angelis Noctem swarming the mountainous surface of their foe, facking at it with blades until they shattered, whereupon they set upon it with their fists, cracking the surface in defiance of their foe.

And yet, guided by the words of the Custodes, the assault had been forwarned about the nature of their foe, the deaths they had suffered, the actions they had undertaken, all were for the singular purpose of making the Omnicron show itself. Now that it had, the endgame was fast approaching.

Through the night that Nocterra had brought with her as she walked, the forms of three black craft slashed downwards, each an Ares Gunship of the Legio Custodes. As one, the Ares opened fire with their Arachnus Cannons, charging and firing in a single terrifying pass, the devastating beams cracking the armour of the Omnicron, energy discharge washing over its surface, the Angelis Noctem already leaping away from it, knowing full well they could do little else. Following close on the tail of the Ares were the strikcraft of the Angelis Noctem; no few than a dozen Thunderhawks, surrounding a pair of deadly Apophis pattern Stormbirds, their cargo-holds modified by the attendant Mechanicum forces to mount a pair of potent volcano cannons, stripped from venerable Falchion super heavy tanks. Such a design was inefficient, the targeting systems of such weapons not suited for a flying platform and the power plant of the Stormbird forcing a far longer recharge time than the weapons would normally enjoy, but against such a large and slow moving target, they suited their purpose. As one, the air fleet opened fire, turbo lasers and volcano cannons striking the gaping wound already torn by the Ares gunships. The effect was predictably impressive, and for a second, the night became as day before Nocterra snuffed it out once more. The Omnicron let out a scream that echoed across the world as it began to fall towards the earth as across a dozen worlds, its pupetted warriors shattered like struck glass.

The Omnicron did not die quickly, the air fleet of both the Custodes and the Angelis Noctem conducting seven more attack runs before the being finally crumbled, taking hundreds of Astartes and fully half of the Angelis aerial assets with it as it fell, but victory belonged to the Imperium, even if the cost had been great. Of the ten thousand Angelis Noctem, only six thousand remained, and of those honoured dead, barely half remained whole enough to recover geneseed from. The Custodes had likewise suffered, though on a far smaller scale, seventy two of their kind falling, a further two being interred within Contemptor shells. Of the great Ogryn force that was deployed by the Angelis Noctem, none survived, the legion sparing no thought for the lives of the abhumans they had spent in the name of a distraction.

The world of Iratha was soon purged, the Angelis noctem remaining behind as the Warders of Rython leaving at the end of the battle, the Astartes now more than capable of wrapping up the campaign. In all, seventeen worlds were stripped of all life, exterminatus stripping away atmosphere and burning away all biological life remaining, leaving airless, barren worlds, the records of the sector modified to reflect that they had in fact always been that way, destroyed in ages past by the Irathi xenos. Like that, the Omnicron was shrouded from history, even as the Irathi were forever remembered as Nocterra’s first victory.

It was during those weeks of purging that a discovery was made, a strange vessel found buried on a moon in orbit of Iratha. Sending Mechanicum probes deep into the vessel, and consulting the lone remaining Warden of Rython for his opinion on the vessels taint, the Angelis Noctem soon moved to recover the vessel wholesale, the ship soon taking flight once more. In time, Nocterra would take this vessel as her own flagship, forgoing the usual Gloriana class battleships used by the other Primarch’s. In time, this vessel would become known as Blade of Salvation, its strange curved hull standing at odds with the normal blocky nature of Imperial Battleships. Many purists within the Logisticae Imperialis would criticise the use of such a non-Imperial vessel, citing its differences to standard Imperial battle doctrine, but few within the Angelis Noctem gave thought to such concerns, acting as they did in all things to the will of their Primarch, not the whims as outsiders.

The Extermination of Zelara
In M30.850, the world of Zelara was brought into compliance by Imperial Forces, the force that conquered the world doing so quickly and rapidly moving on, unaware of the festering sore deep beneath the world's surface that would one day prove to be its undoing. As the years passed, Zelara remained a prosperous Imperial World, maintaining tithes of manpower and materiel to the exact amount they were required, using the excess to further improve their world. In short, a model of Imperial Compliance efficiency.

All this would change in M30.976, when a vast host of Orks under the banner of Warboss Skythumpa were detected heading corewards, Zelara the next Imperial World to stand before the oncoming WAAAAGH! Though the world’s defences were powerful, the PDF equipped with some of the greatest weapons available to moral soldiers and led by many able generals who had honed their craft in the Imperial Army, none on the world believed that they could stand before such a force, the call going out for aid and reinforcements.

As the Ork host drew closer, it seemed that no one had heard the plea for aid, or else they would not reach Zelara in advance of WAAAAAGH Skythumpa, but as the warp began to ripple and churn at the edge of the system, the Ork fleet mere weeks away, a jagged scra tore itself in reality, a fleet of Astartes vessels shooting from the warp, bearing the heraldry of the XIXth Legion; the Angelis Noctem.

All across Zelara cries of joy went up, even with WAAAAAGH Skythumpa still bearing down upon them. The governors of the world prepared to welcome their saviours, reaching out to the fleet, only to be met with utter silence, the Angelis Noctem taking up orbit around the world without a word.

Baffled by the silence, the Worlds Governor again tried to contact the Astartes, and finally, he received a reply, though not in the form he wished for. As one, the Angelis Noctem fleet opened fire, targeting PDF formations and barracks with high powered macro shells, all while the Angelis Noctem themselves descended, quickly breaching the Imperial Governors palace, slaying any who stood before them before taking the head of the worlds leader. For close to an hour, blood flowed across the world, officials being hunted down and slaughtered by the seemingly treasonous XIXth Legion, before they suddenly withdrew, an unseen signal returning each to their ships, the fleet soon breaking orbit and turning from the world, the Ork fleet arriving just as the Astartes disappeared into the warp.

Zelara would not have survived at its prime, but with so much of its leadership in both the military and civil sectors torn apart, they are unable to resist for more than a few hours, the entire planet overrun, its population slaughtered. It was only later, on the Fortress World of Siluho that WAAAAAGH Skythumpa was finally destroyed, Zelara deemed a lost cause due to the Orkoid fungus permeating its every surface, leaving Exterminatus as the only viable option, the world scoured clean of all life.

As information about the true fate of Zelara was revealed, a cry of outrage goes out across the Imperium, many calling for Nocterra and her legion to answer, or even to face censorship for their crimes. These demands continued until the Emperor, Master of Mankind, personally laid them to rest, the Angelis Noctem to face no punishment for their supposed crimes.

Unbeknownst to almost all within the Imperium, including the Primarch’s themselves, Zelara had been home to an ancient and terrible evil, a gene-splicer from the Dark Age of technology, a creature that had once been a man so powerful in his creations that he had all but defeated death itself, his genelooms standing ready to unleash a tide of monsters across the galaxy, Zelara offering him the perfect spot to finalise his craft right under the Imperium’s noses.

Such a foe could not be allowed to live, but nor could his existence become common knowledge, the information he had gathered in his life falling into the wrong hands deemed to much of a risk. This was the true target of the Angelis Noctem’s strike, the gene-splicer and many of his minions in the worlds government cut down, his research captured or destroyed, the Orks finishing any stragglers that may have escaped the vengeance of the XIXth.

Unsurprisingly, without this crucial piece of information, few sat easily with the Emperor’s decision, not least the Hunters Eternal and their Primarch Nemiza, who had suffered reprisals for a similar act barely a decade earlier, their actions seen as less severe than the Angelis Noctem’s crime in every way, the world they purged of corruption still a prosperous part of the Imperium. This only served to further the divide between the Vth and XIXth Legions, and further drove a wedge between him and his father.

The Black Star Rift
Since the earliest days either of them could remember, the two Primarch’s of the XIXth Legion had stood apart, in word, deed and, while neither of them knew it, metaphysical composition, a subtle sense of wrongness rolling out from both Primarch’s to the other, only sensible due to their prestigious psychic powers. It is of little surprise then that the pair never formed any bond but one of enmity and hatred, even as they walked the near pitch black surface of Noxim together for decades, keeping their own company and remaining away from the humans who scurried in the darkness.

This all changed when Solaris, or at least the being who would come to wear that name in time, first discovered the Mantle of Deliverance, a ball of perfectly sculpted crystal hanging in orbit around the world of Noxim, forged in an age long past with the express purpose of amplifying psychic abilities. Were a mortal psyker to stand upon its surface, their powers would be increased drastically, but for a primarch, the effect was extraordinary. Solaris’s powers were magnified to unthinkable levels, allowing the Primarch to change the Mantle of Deliverance into a facsimile of a star, giving light and warmth to the world below.

While the Primarch who would soon be named Nocterra by her followers focused her attention on what had awoken as light covered the world anew, Solaris instead set about examining the Mantle of Deliverance, seeking to unlock its power while his subjects below fell to worshipping him like the god on high he truly was. Such an artefact as the Mantle of Deliverance had infinite secrets, one could spend a lifetime there and only scratch the surface, but there was one that Solaris found that would change everything, not an inanimate object, but an entity of the Sea of Souls; Tuchulcha.

Tuchulcha was a fickle being, never one to give its power simply to anyone, but while it did not trust Solaris, it did see into the skeins of the future with ease, parting the potential and the certain to arrive at a single conclusion; Solaris would take it where it wished to go. Solaris was unaware of Tuchulcha’s duplicity, the warp entity clever and subtle enough to give the Solar Deity no reason to doubt it, and so, Tuchulcha became the trusted confidant of Solaris, feeding the Primarch a censored version of the truth, never enough to provide all answers, but always enough to build trust and force the Primarch to return time and time again, wishing to hear more of what Tuchulcha had to offer.

None within Solaris’s court, nor his legion after the arrival of the Imperium, knew of Tuchulcha’s existence, a special chamber constructed on the Sol Invictus by servitor drones, Solaris erasing their minds from existence the instant upon its construction, their bodies burnt away to nothing soon after. For decades, Tuchulcha would remain a secret, Solaris believing himself its master. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

As the Great Crusade wore on, Solaris’s questions began to take on a different feel, no longer about what he would do, but of what he was, a question Tuchulcha had waited to answer since the first day the pair had met. Solaris asked what he truly was, knowing he was not like his brothers or sister, and in his own way, Tuchulcha answered truthfully, never telling a lie, but never telling a full truth. Worlds were selected by the warp entity, worlds that it said would hold answers for Solaris, and without hesitation, Solaris followed the path laid before him, the Supernal Seraphs criss-crossing the galaxy seemingly at random, keeping to no military path and subjugating worlds seemingly at random. At times they would assist Imperial Forces, like they did upon the world of Carnaum with the Imperial Wardens Army Group, while at others they would land to subjugate entire worlds without support, often worlds assigned to other legions that they simply had not yet reached, such as the world of Brakanal IV, where Umbral Blades operatives had been preparing the world for a seamless and bloodless takeover, the Supernal Seraphs arriving and invading far in advance of the IIIrd legions own planned compliance of the world. This earnt them no small amount of enmity amongst the other legions, who saw the legion as flaunting common strategy and Imperial High Commanders orders, but Solaris cared little for this, continuous requests for reports and updates on his actions going unanswered, the Supernal Son seemingly already a master unto himself, a cold reflection of what was to come.

Each of these worlds held nothing for the solar Primarch, and yet each world unlocked a door just the same, steering him further along the path Tuchulcha desired. A choice word here, a subtle stroking of the ego there. For all his pomp and grandeur, his correct viewpoint that he was indeed a god, Solaris was not omnipotent, putty in the ancient warp entity’s hands. Eventually, after nearly a decade of random jumps, Imperial High Command teetering on the verge of declaring the entire legion renegade and calling them to account by force if required, the Supernal Seraphs fleet arrived above the world of an ancient people; Xenobia, of the Interexine Star Empire.

The Interex were a noble people, one whose ambitions for unity rivalled the Emperor’s own, but where the Emperor used conquest, the Interex used diplomacy, bringing others into their fold peacefully, even xenos breeds such as the kinebrach within their ranks. Where one of the more moderate Primarch’s of the Imperium to have encountered the star empire; Ayenwathaa of the Storm Riders, Eshmun Kadluk of the Keepers of the Flame or Alexios Justarion of the Paragon Order, peace might have been a true and viable option. Instead, Solaris made war upon these people without hesitation or parlay, Tuchulcha spilling the great purpose of the Interex Empire; to fight the force of Kaos.

Kaos, or to give it the true names that Tuchulcha ascribed to the force, the Primordial Truth or simple Chaos, was a word already known to Solaris, Tuchulcha having used it many times to further goad the Primarch into action. Tuchulcha knew its true purpose however, but Solaris remained blissfully unaware of such things, believing Chaos to simply be a force within the galaxy such as gravity, both the Supernal Seraphs and the despised Angelis Noctem understanding that the warp was far more than simply an other realm, knowing that it was inhabited by creatures of pure thought and emotion. What neither grasped however was that the Warp was sentient, Chaos no more a force of nature than the Orks were. It was an entity more than capable of malevolent thought, and it had been Solris’s true creator, splitting the Primarch from Nocterra at the moment of their scattering.

The Interex were powerful, their ornamental arms and armour easily able to cut through Astartes Power Armour and resist bolt shells, though the warriors within were mere humans and often died from the concussive qualities of the legions weapons, even as their armour remained intact. They were no match for a legion at war however, and in short order, their empire was put to grass, Solaris careful not to damage their history and knowledge, finally coming to understand the truth of Kaos.

This was the final spark that lit the fire within Solaris, his mind opening to the galactic truth of the Primordial Creator. Like a dam being broken, one piece of knowledge spiralled into two others, and from there each piece into two more. For close to a year, Solaris and the Supernal Seraphs remained within the Interexine Empire, delving deep into all the vaults of the now dead empire, bringing their wealth of knowledge to Solaris. Imperial high Command would not stand for this, finally sending an Investigation Fleet to bring orders to Solaris and the Supernal Seraphs to report to the nearby staging ground of Kalo III, there to answer for their actions and to accept a new assignment. The Investigation Fleet would never return, Solaris and his sons slaughtering the Imperial forces without hesitation or remorse. Imperial high Command was shocked by this, the act of a legion publicly murdering loyal Imperial soldiers utterly unprecedented.

If they believed that would be the worst of Solaris’s transgressions however, they were sorely mistaken. In possession of all the knowledge he required, Solaris and his sons struck at Imperial Worlds, close to a dozen burning, most of their populations slaughtered, those with Psychic Prowess or potential dragged back to the legions fleet in chains. The Legion was quickly declared Traitoris Maximus, but aided by Tuchulcha, none could bring them to battle, the fleet performing impossible warp jumps from inside systems, easily escaping the warriors of the Imperium. At the height of his insanity, Solaris and his sons struck at one of the nigh on mythical Black Fleets, those vessels crewed by the Silent Sisterhood that stalked the void lanes of the Imperium, gathering psykers as tithes from Imperial Worlds. The Silent Sisters were amongst the greatest warriors against Psykers, and yet even they could not stand before a massed legion, their ships seized, their precious cargo secured.

With this final conquest, the Supernal Seraphs return to their homeworld of Noxim, Solaris transferring Tuchulcha to the surface of the Mantle of Deliverance alongside the thousands of psykers he had taken captive. Arranged upon the Psy-moon in geo-centric patterns, these slaves were tortured, their souls flensed away as their flesh brunt, their powers siphoned from their bodies and prepared to inhabit a new host; Solaris.

This ritual would have allowed Solaris to ascend to the realm of the gods, a prince of Chaos itself, but such would not come to pass. Nocterra and the Angelis Noctem struck at their twins, arranged in a single mailed fist that struck with characteristic speed and brutality. They held nothing back in their assault, determined that either they would end Solaris’s insanity, or they would be ended by it, either way absolving themselves of their links with the traitor.

The fighting was brutal even before the Angelis Noctem reached the surface, Nocterra managing to guide much of her fleet into the system in secret, bypassing the larger Supernal Seraph fleet and achieving high orbit around the Mantle of Deliverance, battle joined by hundreds of warships, chief amongst them Solaris’s own flagship, the Sol Invictus. Nothing could stand before the Gloriana vessel, even as Angelis Noctem ships launched boarding torpedoes filled with tens of thousands of drug crazy servitors or Ogryn Charonites, expendable fodder that could not be ignored, allowing Nocterra’s own flagship, the Blade of Salvation to close the gap with her counterpart.

In a straight fight, the far larger Sol Invictus would likely have triumphed in the clash of titans, but commanded by Nocterra herself, the result was different. Psychic runes along its surface were empowered beyond the norm by Nocterra herself, using her undeniable might to make the enemy ship all but invulnerable to any incoming fire, but more importantly, to anything seeking to leave the vessel as well. With a thought, the psy-fuel that powered the ships plasma weaponry, making up nearly all of the warships weapons, detonated, consuming the entire flagship in a fireball that should have destroyed every ship for hundreds of thousands of kilometers. Only the shield Nocterra still held in place prevented this, only dropped when the Sol Invictus was no more than atoms floating in the void.

The blow to the Supernal Seraphs morale was immense, the Angelis Noctem capitalising on this to effect a landing upon the Mantle of Deliverance itself, fully thirty thousand Astartes deploying from the full range of the Angelis Noctem’s armoury. Nothing was held in reserve, the fleet withdrawing to ensure they themselves were not boarded now they had no Astartes left to repel such a threat. None of the Angelis Noctem believed they would return alive, Nocterra herself proclaiming this would be their final action. They had a single goal; the death of Solaris himself, those Supernal Seraphs who followed him could be hunted down by other legions at a later date. The Angelis Noctem would strike the head from the serpent, clean their own house, even if it cost them their lives.

Cost them it did, hundreds perishing in the first instant of the landing, the number only continuing to rise, and yet like a speartip the smaller force punched into the Supernal Seraphs, led by the Lunar Guard and the newly created Nullifactors. Finally, a gap was opened, the terminator armoured units of the legion turning to hold it as Nocterra streaked through, cutting her way through the elite of her brothers forces, before finally coming face to face with Solaris once more in the heart of the great crystalline moon, a vast empty cavern continuing naught but Nocterra, Solaris, and Tuchulcha itself, the cold but whole corpse of a child standing before it, having apparently been speaking to Solaris only moments before.

No words were spoken between the two Primarch’s, even as a flurry of psychic communication leapt between the pair. To an outsider, it would have seemed like Nocterra required no preamble, charging her brother with blades drawn, furthering her reputation as cold and merciless, willing to kill even her twin without an utterance. This view was not true, but it was something Nocterra never disputed ether, using it to her own advantage to spread more misinformation about herself.

The pair clashed with a thunderclap that cracked the walls, centuries of enmity finally finding a vent on the other as sickle shaped Divining Blades were met with pure psychic manifestations, Solaris proving once more why he was regarded as the greatest psycker of the primarch’s, not Nocterra, his power manifesting outwardly with consummate ease. As skilled as she was, Solaris countered every move she made, launching hundreds of psionic bolts at her and forcing her to dodge and weave, not able to continue her uninterrupted flurry of attacks as was her way.

While Solaris was powerful however, his sister was near his equal, also empowered by the Mantle of Deliverance and further pushed onwards by rage and righteous fury. Solaris required more strength, more than the human slaves he was still draining of their essence, and luckily for him, he had a far greater reserve at his disposal. It may cost him ground in the battle outside, but this fight was all that mattered. The Supernal Seraphs had always been an oddity of a legion, spawned by what was now clearly chaos-tainted geneseed, they had suffered from none of the abnormalities of the Angelis Noctem that had so hampered the other part of the Celestial Host. They were made strong by their geneseed, but that power was not theirs, the legion simply borrowing it from their lord, repayment now coming due.

Across the battle sphere, thousands of Supernal Seraphs screamed in pure agony and terror as their souls were ripped from their bodies, leaving naught but lifeless, shriveled husks behind, Solaris swelling with this reclaimed power. For all Nocterra’s skill, she was unable to match her brother now, thrown to the floor, her blades skittering away from her, Solaris laughing as he sauntered forward, arrogant as always and utterly sure of his own supremacy.

Finally, Tuchulcha spoke, its voice ringing out not to Solaris, but to Nocterra. This had always been its end goal, a way for the warp entity to make contact with one it would truly serve, and with a whispered word that only she could hear, Tuchulcha spoke of the path to victory, Nocterra having no option other than to attempt what it suggested.

Though he had been the first to discover it and harness its powers centuries ago, and though he hated to admit it, Solaris knew that the Mantle of Deliverance had always resisted his touch, far more than it had Nocterra’s. Perhaps it was his way of demanding power rather than working to unlock it as an equal, Solaris’s cocksure attitude of utter supremacy working against him in his endeavours. Perhaps it was Nocterra’s more focused attitude towards her psychic ability, Solaris preferring to expand his mind in all direction while Nocterra delved deeper in fewer subjects. Perhaps it was simply the metaphysical nature of Solaris claiming to be a Sun God, while Nocterra was the Goddess of the Night, the Mantle of Deliverance a Psy-moon, not a Psy-Sun.

Whatever the reason, Nocterra used this to her advantage now, plunging her hands deep into the well of psychic energy she could call upon and unleashing it in a searing beam, any looking upon it save the two Primarch’s finding their eyes burnt from their sockets, their very comprehension of sight itself vanishing in that instant. The power was unimaginable, the white crystal of the Mantle of Deliverance darkening at her touch, becoming pitch black, and yet Nocterra did not take it into herself, instead focusing and directing it straight at her hated brother.

Solaris let out a roar of agony as the power overwhelmed him, his body expanding and cracking, mutating under the baleful energies Nocterra forced him to absorb. He could not control the power she directed at him, and with a final scream of impotent rage, he exploded, the power tearing him apart, a tear in the fabric of reality opening from his passing.

All across the galaxy, no matter their distance from the Mantle of Deliverance, Supernal Seraphs let out a scream of their own, even the now imprisoned warrior of the Crusader Host on distant Terra not spared. Souls were ripped free and dragged into the warp, until all that was left of the once mighty Supernal Seraphs were withered and shriveled husks, night but once full shells. It was believed that none survived the event, Nocterra and her Angelis Noctem still not grasping the truth behind Chaos, seeing it simply as a new name for the Immaterium, failing to see the true sentience that lay beneath.

The Angelis Noctem had been victorious, the Solar Rebellion ended, but the cost was nearly beyond counting. Of the thirty thousand who had begun the assault, barely half now remained, and though they now could take the entirety of what remained of the Supernal Seraphs armoury, they were still a diminished legion.As they struggled to rebuild, forced to rely on cobbled together armour bearing a distinctive studden look that would soon come to be officially codified as the MkV Xenocide armour, an Edict of Obliteration was passed by the Emperor of Mankind, carried out ruthlessly and completely, all traces of the Supernal Seraphs purged from records, those who knew of them to remain silent under threat of execution, from either the Emperor or Nocterra herself. The XIXth Legion was now and had always been the Angelis Noctem, Nocterra the sole primarch of that genetic line, Solaris and his sons wiped away in utter shame.

The Supernal Seraphs were no more, records of them wiped out, even the Angelis Noctem’s records purged. Only a single reference to the final, cataclysmic battle remained outside of Nocterra’s eidetic memory, a single phrase that was ominous in its finality; The Black Star Rift.

Soon, the Angelis Noctem were attached to the IIIrd Legion, the Umbral Blades, their diminished numbers making crusading alone an impossibility. It was here that a firm bond was formed between the two legions, Nocterra warming, albeit slightly, to Haqis'rahk, showing him some of the secrets of her legion that no other had been privy to. However, even this had its limits, Haqis'rahk only permitted to see what Nocterra wished him to see, some secrets still kept, such as the continued existence of Tuchulcha. The warp engine had proved instrumental in the victory against Solaris and the Supernal Seraphs, and in so doing earnt some of Nocterra’s trust, while in return, Tuchulcha had found one he was willing to truly serve.

Tuchulcha would be instrumental not only in the Rangdan Wars, aiding in the strike at the Rangdan Queen and allowing for a seemingly impossible warp jump, but also in the Great War that followed, Nocterra and the Angelis Noctem taking up arms against the Emperor of Mankind, joining with the Secessionist cause without hesitation. With Tuchulcha aiding them, the legion became a force of terror amongst the Loyalist forces, too few in number to truly affect the course of the war on the battlefield, but able to bypass blockades, jumping to undefended worlds untouched by the war, bringing with them the force of will to put such innocents to the torch, spreading terror amongst the loyalist forces. They were brutal, but they were effective, far more so than they would be in conventional combat.

The Rangdan War
The Rangdan War was a brutal conflict, ten years of unrelenting conflict the likes of which the galaxy had never seen, and in truth, would not be truly surpassed for almost 10,000 years. Led by the powerful and enigmatic Rangdan Queen, the xenos horde had swept over the outer Imperium, trillions perishing beneath their gaze, the Legiones Astartes fighting on every front seemingly matched warrior for warrior by a force that matched the numbers of the Imperial Army. By the seventh year of the war, the Imperium was all but spent, its legions exhausted and clad in shattered armour, tens of thousands of regiments of brave mortals wiped out, and unnumbered planets lost forever. Something had to change, that much was obvious, and so, Alexios Justarion, Primarch of the Paragon Order, created a daring plan, one that could either win the war...or lose it completely.

Since the earliest days of the war, the Imperium had tried to hunt down and eliminate the Rangdan Queen, assassins from both the Assassinorum and the Umbral Blades legion had been dispatched, none ever returning, each death bringing with it further losses as Rangdan Cerbavores devoured the brains of the fallen, learning of the Imperium's secrets and using them against the mighty star empire. Subtly had failed, even Malcador’s supreme skill in the subtle art of assassination not equal to the task at hand. A grander gesture was required, and that is what Alexios provided.

In M30.997, three years after the Titans of Vayrd'un had returned to fortify the homeworld, Alexios laid forth his plan, calling on the direct strength of twelve legions and the support of two others to lure the Rangdan Queen into a trap and strike her down. In so doing, Alexios hoped that he could bring this war to an end, signalling that humanity and the Imperium were the only ones worthy of ruling the galaxy.

The plan was split into two stages, the distraction and the thrust. The distraction was less rigorously planned by Alexios, the Primarch of the Xth Legion, his plan given the Emperor’s own blessing, giving free reign to the planning to the two legions involved; the zealot horde of the Apostles of Lazari; XIIth Legiones Astartes, and the Exterminators of the Iron Lords, the XXth Legiones Astartes. Their task was simple; make noise.

Both legions set about this task with gusto, the Apostles of Lazari letting their berserker state free, flagellant repentant’s hurled themselves into battle at Legion strength across sectors, drawing as many Rangdan forces to themselves as possible. Meidi and the Iron Lords took a slower approach, mustering their forces at the fortress world of Enokan, deploying their full fleet in orbit of the single world, alongside millions of Imperial Army soldiers. Such a gathering in a single planetary orbit had not been undertaken since the fateful destruction of the Palatine Lions nearly seven years earlier, and it was Meidi’s hope that the parallels between this muster and that muster would have the desired effect. In this, he was right.

A huge Rangdan fleet jumped into the battlesphere, burning their engines whitehot as they streaked towards the fortress world. Soon, advanced pickets from the Imperial Army fleet were engaging the Rangdan, running them back towards the planet, drawing them in. It was here that Meidi played his hand. Without warning, the Iron Lords turned, seemingly fleeing before the Rangdan, the swarm redoubling its efforts to catch them, though such would be in vain. By giving chase, the Rangdan drew themselves further into the system, increasing the distance between them and the system's mandeville point, trapping them. With this done, Meidi revealed his ace in the whole.

A lattice of metal structures around Enokan’s sun lit up as one, billions of tons of ordnance coming alive, firing directly downwards, triple cyclical void shields keeping the payload safe for long enough for the torpedo’s to detonate, first crippling, then super expanding the core of the star itself. The action had taken significant time and planning, and was one that would never be replicated again, but in that moment, Meidi proved himself as the bane of life itself, as by his order, a star went supernova.

None in the system, save the Iron Lords themselves, escaped with their lives, the Imperial Army and Rangdan warriors lacking the forewarning that allowed the XXth Legion to outrun the destruction they had set in motion. Nor did the destruction stop there; the act of sending a star into supernova had consequences to surrounding systems that were felt for generations to come, gamma rays and other high-energy radiation bombarding their surface, causing hideous mutations before these worlds were summarily abandoned. Millions of loyal soldiers and tens of billions of Imperial citizens had perished, but most importantly, so had millions upon millions of Rangdan warrior, and above all, no less than three Commanders, leaders of the swarm, second only to the Queen herself. To date, the deployment of more than one of their kind heralded the death of sectors, their kind the equal of the Primarch’s themselves. To kill three at once was something utterly unmatched, and it was this that caused the Queen to take notice. The bait had been taken, Alexios moved forward.

Fleets were dispatched with haste, not careful planning, anger and overconfidence of seven years of near unmitigated success seeing the Queen make her first true missteps. For the remainder of the war, the Iron Lords would be a legion on the run, their deaths sought after more than any other, the last orders of the Rangdan Queen being followed even after her death. All of these fleets however were dispatched from a singular point, Alexios tracking and correlating the information, winding it back until finally, a single point in space common to all the orders was given. No planet was this, the Rangdan homeworld far to the galactic north, already having been trodden on by Imperial spies seeking the Queens location to no avail. Now it became clear she had never run the war from a world, such an easy target for retribution. Anonymity had been the greatest defence in her arsenal, and with that now diminished, the Imperium stuck, the Emperor and the legions not chosen bracing themselves for the renewed assault that would surely come.

Twelve Primarchs, some bringing but a portion of their legion, while some like the depleted Angelis Noctem mustered their full might, small as it was, followed Alexios into the dark space, entering a nebulous area of the galaxy where even the light of stars was unseeable, cut off from the surrounding universe utterly. It was a perfect hiding spot, itself undetectable due to its absence of matter, but now, it would be a grave, one from which there could be only two outcomes; The Imperium’s triumph over the Rangdan scourge, or the Rangdan’s extermination of the Imperium. Seven years of war, to be decided upon by a single battle.

The task force was mighty, elements of the Paragon order, Hunters Eternal, Omnimarines, Harbingers, Storm Riders, Atlas Guardians, Sons of Godwyn, Void Watchers, Keepers of the Flame, Wind Reavers and Angelis Noctem all matching to the same drum. An unprecedented show of strength and comradery, never to be repeated in the history of the galaxy. Never had so many Primarch’s fought together, never again would so many of their kind fight as brothers rather than mortal enemies.

Without warning, the Imperium struck from the Warp, the fleet not jumping into a star system and thus unfettered by mandaville points and normal rules of Void Engagement. The fleet of the Void Watchers led the way, smashing through the outer defences at no small loss to his own fleet. The XIth Legions fleet was all but unmatched in the galaxy, and it was they who had the dubious honour of engaging not the Rangdan Fleet, but the Queens flagship herself; a vessel seemingly defying quantification, its size eclipsing the Gloriana’s of the legions or even the mighty Phalanx of the Imperial Wardens. If the Queen was the Rangdan’s answer to the Emperor, then this vessel was her Imperator Somnium.

Even the void masters of the XIth took heavy losses as they clove in close to the mighty warship, leading the way for the rest of the Imperial task force, forcing breaches in the ship to allow those who followed to pour in. Hundreds of thousands of Astartes were soon on board the vessel, each with a vital part to play, Alexios establishing a command centre in one of the captured breaching points, his sons spreading out with many of the Imperial Assault forces, laying with them vox emitters and hard lines, painting a picture of the Rangdan Queens ship that had so far been a mystery.

Eight of the twelve legions of the strike remained as one, the fist of the attack, driving forward and drawing the attention of the vessel's defenders. Hunters Eternal fought beside Omnimarines and Void Watchers, While Storm Riders, Sons of Godwyn and Harbingers surged forward. Wind reavers kept the flanks of the advance secured, while Keepers of the Flame busied themselves with tending to the wounded, their supreme skill in such matters seeing many returned to the fight far quicker than the apothecaries of their own legion could have managed. Together, these eight struck for the centre of the vessel, and there they found the throne room, and within, the Rangdan Queen herself.

None had laid eyes upon the Queen, or at least if they had, none had lived to tell the tale. She was death incarnate, her size dwarfing the Primarch’s, her four lithe arms ending in deadly claws shrouded in crackling bio-energy, their deadly edges the equal of any blade the Imperium could forge, but possessing a dexterity outstripping that of a human’s unaltered hand. Armour that was nigh invulnerable shrouded her form, and with a single raised claw, she called her adversaries on.

The legions remained outside the throne room, turning to hold the entryway, not wishing to hinder the six Primarch’s who ran within. Nemiza, Skyrios, Ayenwathaa, Godwyn, Irawaru and Beithrult would engage and slay this monster, while outside, Ezharion would command the defence of the throne room, Eshmun as ever tending to the wounded or giving them final peace, removing geneseed and storing it away to return to its rightful owners in time.

The destruction of the Queen was the most important action not merely of this strike, but in truth of the entire war, possibly even the entire Great Crusade, and yet not all present were involved in her destruction, no matter their suitability for such a task. Nocterra was undoubtedly a killer and duelist the equal of any of her brothers, and yet while they fought to kill the Rangdan Queen, Nocterra was put into another role, leading her Angelis Noctem not to kill the Queen, but to silence her.

With the main thrust of the attack drawing the attention of the Rangdan, the Angelis Noctem cut through any who stood in their way, heading for the command centre of the vessel. As they surged in, the Rangdan communicators, the closest the xenos race had to both navigators and astropaths, turned, unsuited as they were for combat. As Nocterra engaged the sole Commander on the bridge, the Angelis Noctem tore through these vital communicators, and soon, the bridge was a charnel house. The Rangdan Queens vessel was silent, the .......................................... leading the other legion fleets to ensure that such fate was visited upon all ships of the fleet. No support from the Rangdan empire would reach the Rangdan Queen, Nocterra’s task successful, the rest up to her brothers.

Six primarchs fighting together should have been able to destroy any single target, their power enough to shake the stars themselves. The Rangdan Queen was beyond them, individually she would have slaughtered any of the Primarch’s who stood before her, even in pairs she would have prevailed, her skill and natural power holding off fully six of the Emperor’s sons, but as the fight dragged on, it became clear that what the Primarch’s lack in killing power in this fight, they made up for with pure, indomitable determination. They were fighting for their home, for the preservation of everything they had forged over two centuries. They would not let it fall to ruin through any weakness on their part.

Where one Primarch withdrew to nurse a wound, another would surge forward, where Beithrult, Ayenwathaa and Nemiza formed together into an unbreakable wall, Skyrios, Godwyn and Irawaru leapt forward. The Queen was but one against many, and like wolves taking down an ancient mammoth, the Primarchs landing small but telling blows, wearing down their foe with each tiny cut.

In the end, though none present would ever claim that they alone had killed the Rangdan Queen, all being integral to the eventual end of the fight, Nemiza merely landing the killing blow, aided by each of his brothers. The monster hunter of Iowca leapt from Gowyn’s presented shield, the Primarch of the IVth Legion pushing upwards with all his considerable strength, sending Nemiza arcing through the air, entering a section of the battle that had thus far been unoccupied. At the same time, Beithrult hurled himself forward, committing everything to a seemingly reckless attack to draw the Queen's attention, Skyrios and Ayenwathaa joining him, while Irawaru peppered the Queen with high explosive bolt shells. This sudden attack, spearheaded as it was by Beithrult’s near unmatched martial skill, forced the Queen to devote her attention away from Nemiza for a split second, giving him all the time he needed.

The Crimson Wolf let out a battle cry as he descended, the smaller Claw sheathed, the mighty Fang held in both hands, nemiza swinging as he dropped. With a wet ripping sound, the sword met flesh, resistance slowing it but with Nemiza’s full weight behind it, there was nothing that could stop the blow. Nemiza landed heavily on the deck. The Queen's severed head landed a second later.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, before a cheer went up amongst those of the legions who had seen the final blow, taken up across all forces present. With renewed vigour, the legions tore forward into the faltering Rangdan forces, smashing them aside as they realed at the sudden loss of their Queen.

Word seemingly spread like wildfire through the flagship, Rangdan losing heart or breaking ranks to tear at their foe, being cut down with far more ease compared to the disciplined lines they had been holding just moments before. His plan now concluded, Alexios sounded the order for a withdrawal, Astartes and Primarchs alike pulling back, even the half mad Skyrios heeding the call to retreat. As they did, huge demolition charges left behind by the invaders tore into the ship, blowing huge holes into the hull, opening it to the void.

As the last living Astartes withdrew from the ship, the final order was given, dozens of cyclonic, viral and phosphex bombs, all usually reserved for experminatus actions, were launched at the flagship, targeting the freshly made breaches in the hull. Within moments, the ship was ablaze, but this was not enough, more firepower being poured into the vessel until it was little more than dust, the fury of a billion billion dead satiated with the destruction of this symbol of the hated Rangdan Queen.

The Rangdan Queen was no more, many seeing the event as proof of Alexios’s supreme strategic capability for orchestrating such an attack, others praising Nemiza, Beithrult and all the other Primarch’s who stood tall against the Rangdan Queen. However, if the Imperium had thought that the loss of the Queen would signal an end of the Rangdan War, they were sorely mistaken.

Word of the Queens death spread across the galaxy like fire, the Rangdan Empire splintering at the knowledge of their overlords demise. Soon, opportunistic warlords and powerful commanders were lashing out at the Imperium, any coordination they had now gone as each sought to prove that they alone were a worthy successor to the Queen. The war took another three years to finally come to a close, these new attacks having no centralised goal, no singular mind behind them, rendering counter intelligence all but useless. It is believed that the death toll in the last three years of the war exceeded that of the previous seven, such was the tally the Rangdan reaped, and though this has never, and in truth could never, be confirmed, many believe this sentiment. However, without the Queen driving the Scourge, such an assault could not last forever and soon, the undefeated armies of the Rangdan were forced backwards, ground taken early in the war now retaken by the Imperium, before they pushed onwards, landing on worlds never before held by the empire of man, the Rangdan’s inner empire. In M31.000, the first Exterminatus weapons landed on the Rangdan homeworld, and with that, the deadliest conflict in human history came to a close, those surviving Rangdan fleeing before vengeful Imperial hunting fleets.

Thus ended the Rangdan War, and yet war was not over, as in its wake, another bloody war loomed, the Imperium preparing to fight not an external threat, but one from within...

Claiming the Flame
When the Rangdan War Ended and the Great War began in M31.000, many Primarchs and Legions instantly declared for one side or another, while others remained neutral in those early days, unsure of who to support in the insanity of the Civil War. However, by M31.002 at the Secessionist Conclave, almost all Primarchs had chosen their side, six standing alongside the Emperor, thirteen standing against him. Only one Primarch remained stubbornly neutral, refusing to pick a side in the bloody civil war, his warrior, medics and apothecaries of superlative skill, treating all no matter their side, attempting to sew back together a universe tearing itself apart. They were the Keepers of the Flame, led by their Primarch, Eshmun Kadluk.

Throughout the Rangdan Wars, the VIIIth Legion had busied itself as much with setting up so-called “Hospital Worlds” as they had with fighting the Rangdan scourge. These worlds were given over entirely to the healing of the sick and injured, and as one war transitioned into another, so too did these worlds transition from treating humans wounded in a galactic conflict to treating Astartes wounded by their own weapons. All were welcome at such worlds, all treated as equals no matter the side they stood upon, the Keepers of Flame standing guard upon their charges, ready to defend against any who sought to challenge this neutrality.

Such idealistic thinking, while noble, did not sit well with many on either side of the conflict, and as the battle lines became solidified, almost all legions choosing their side, a frantic race developed, both sides seeking to claim the support of the last undeclared legion, and in so doing tip the balances in their favour. In the end, both sides assigned a legion to search for their wayward brother, the selection telling of both sides. From the Loyalists, Lazari of the Twelfth Legion, the so called ‘Apostles of Lazari’ were selected, well known for both their diplomatic abilities...and their savage ferocity when finally unleashed. In contrast, the Secessionists sent the Angelis Noctem, under the command of Nocterra. She was no diplomat, but she was a psyker and a hunter, her legion already battered and reduced in size, less suited for the frontline than many others, and so could be spared for such a task.

Both of these choices were telling of the general attitude of the war, and though it was never said to either legion, there was an underlying message in their selection; they were to ensure the VIIIth Primarch did not side with their enemies. Convincing him to join their side was the preferable outcome, but an unspoken truth was evident that if such an outcome was not possible, his removal would be an acceptable, if regrettable, alternative.

For close to a year, the two legions prowled the galaxy, occasionally clashing with each other as they hunted their elusive quarry, until finally, mid-way through M31.003, both forces hearing whispers of their elusive quarry on one of his beloved Hospital Worlds, a small frontier planet known as Diy'rem.

Diy'rem had been beautiful once, renowned for its beautiful sunsets of amber and caramel, spreading over the lilac sky beneath the trinary suns. All that had changed during the Rangdan Wars, landscapes plained flat as ugly, blocky buildings were crafted in record time. Tent cities sprang up across half the world, and soon, a sterile mist floated across the world, even the air itself seeming to fight viral infections and keep the living alive for just a few moments longer.

Lazari was the first to arrive, descending to the world in his personal Stormbird, exiting the craft clad in the robes of a diplomat, not the power armour of a warrior. Even unarmoured however, his prized weapon, a meteor hammer, was wrapped around his waist akin to a belt, the barbed chain piercing his flesh with every movement, an act of penance he would say were any to ask.

Alongside Lazari were two individuals, but these were no Astartes. Instead they were as mortals, aides to the Primarch provided by Malchador himself at the onset of the civil war, their purpose to aid the Primarch of the XIIth Legion in all things, one being a gifted savant and the other a powerful Astropath. In bringing only these two men, Lazari sent a strong message to any who saw him, further driving home the point he made by forsaking armour. He was here to talk, not make war, and would in so doing uphold the avowed neutrality of his brother.

Eshmun saw the arrival of a brother armed for peace as a great boon, welcoming Lazari to the world, the two talking in hushed tones as they walked through one of the less serious wards of the macro-hospital, eventually reaching a large courtyard, dominated by a single tree that had not been cut down. Eshmun explained that usually this was a highly sought after spot on the world, one of the last pieces of natural beauty left and an excellent recovery ward, but in preparation for the talks to come, he had ordered it cleared, as well as ordering a large table to be brought in, three chairs arranged equidistant apart around it.

For a time, the pair spoke, until with a loud crack of displaced air, Nocterra arrived, a corona of teleport flair surrounding her and her Luna Guard as they arrived, bereft of ceremony, and unlike Lazari, fully armed and armoured for battle, helmets sealed in place, blades sheathed but ready to be unleashed at a moments notice, ready for the unspoken symbol that would see violence visited upon this world. Around the perimeter, Keepers of the VIIIth Legion tightened their grip upon their own weapons, bolters remaining firmly ported across chests, but it would take but an instant to bring them up and fill the courtyard with explosive rounds.

Refusing to be goaded but inwardly looking down upon the manner and appearance of the new arrivals, Eshmun invited his brother and sister to sit with him at the table, the Angelis Noctem forming behind Nocterra but otherwise remaining deathly silent.

For close to an hour, the trio spoke, Lazari having the best of the arguments, skilled as he was in diplomacy, his silver tongue working in his favour, speaking of the clear lines of right and wrong that now split the galaxy, naming Nocterra and her ilk traitors of the lowest kind, throwing barbs about Nocterra’s own title, naming her Kinslayer for her actions some fifteen Terran years earlier during the Solar Rebellion. It was an unsubtle barb, but it had the desired effect, reminding all present of Nocterra’s actions. The Dark lady was woefully outclassed in this instance, diplomacy never her strongest area, and so she kept her words minimal, her mind and face remaining utterly unreadable, even for Lazari’s innate psychic sense.

Finally, as the first hour ticked away and the second began to tick down, Nocterra’s patience met its end. With a sudden roar and explosion of movement, Nocterra sprang forward, both Primarch’s taken by surprise at the sudden change from utterly neutral to vengeful fury. With a speed few amongst the pantheon could match, Nocterra dived forward, the heavy stone table hurled aside and slamming into Eshmun, the VIIIth Primarch forced to divert his attention to catching the projectile, giving Nocterra the opening she required.

Lazari barely had time to ready his weapon before Nocterra was on him, the Primarch of the XIIth scarcely fending off the initial attacks as he was driven back. Had this continued, there could have been no debate about the outcome of the fight, one Primarch armoured and in her element, the other girded for diplomacy and forced onto the defensive. However, as Nocterra prepared for what could have been a final blow, her blades falling towards Lazari, they met not with flesh, but with metal, a loud resounding clang echoing around the room as Eshmun joined the battle.

Seeing Nocterra’s escalation as the proof he needed, Eshmun threw in his lot fully with Lazari, aiding him in the fight as together, the pair began to drive Nocterra onto the defensive, robbing her of the initiative she relied so much upon. The battle raged back and forth, Nocterra outnumbered but certainly not outmatched, her psychic powers bolstering her strength, tightening her reactions and augmenting the shields of her armour. She was not however, looking at those who fought around her, and it was just this battle focus that one of the companions that Lazari had brought with him was waiting for.

Unbeknownst to all, perhaps even to himself, the savant that lazari had brought with him, a frail old man known to all as Arlen, was no mere aide, having been brought before the Lord Regent Malcador in the earliest days of the Great War. There, before the greatest human psyker to ever draw breath, Arlen’s mind was stripped back his personality and soul ripped from him and replaced with something far more insidious.

Worked upon by Malcador himself, Arlen was given a single mission, one that would see him dead, but would allow him to strike a telling blow against one of the greater threats to the Imperium during the Secession; Nocterra. Soon, Arlen was set free once more, unaware of the ticking time bomb that now sat within him, his personality rebuild atop his new self, but as he watched the fight unfold, hidden psychic triggers began to fade away, subtle enough that Nocterra would never have sensed them with anything but a directed mind probe, and certainly not something she would sense in the midst of combat.

Going from a standstill to a full sprint in an instant, Arlen dove towards the combat between the three Primarch’s, a boltshell from one of the Lunar Guard took him in the shoulder, ripping his arm asunder in a bloody spray that should have killed the old man, but empowered as he was did not even slow him, the human leaping into the fight between the three primarch’s before exploding in a fountain of blood, bone and most importantly, raw psychic energy.

All of the primarch’s were knocked back by the blast, but it was Nocterra who had the undisputed worst of it. Ancient sciences long since lost and all but impossible to replicate smashed into the Dark Lady, overloading her mind and turning it dead to the warp in the same manner as a simple psyk-grenade would have robbed a mortal psyker of their powers.

Falling to the ground, Nocterra let out a wheezing rasp as she choked up blood, ruptured organs not sealing quick enough, even her own biology rebelling against her without the touch of the warp. No one moved, stunned at the sudden change, the Lunar Guard reeling from the blow almost as much as their mistress had, their distance from the fight keeping them somewhat protected.

Then Lazari let out a terrible roar of pure, unadulterated rage. He alone knew that Arlen had not acted on his orders, the Primarch of the XIIth legion being many things, but he never would have stooped so low as to betray the neutrality of this place. None would believe him though, his honour forever tainted by the acts of those he called his superiors, and it was this that broke his mind, turning him into the mindless berserker his own legion was known for.

Defending yourself from a clear aggressor was one thing to Eshmun, but to bring a weapon as vile as a biological bomb, one clearly meant to kill a single target, was quite another. As Lazari dived forward, Eshmun’s viewpoint changed instantly, the Primarch diving forward once more, this time standing between the struggling Nocterra and the onrushing Lazari.

Once more, Primarch’s clashed, fist against armour, meteor hammer against power maul With barked orders from Eshmun and a croaking wheezed agreement from Nocterra, both the Lunar Guard and the Keepers turned their attention from each other and instead focused on Lazari, peppering the unarmoured Primarch with bolt-shells or charging forward, adding their own strength to Eshmun’s. The fight was brutal, but ended in a sudden instant, a stray bolt shell slamming into Lazari’s temple and exploding, the Primarch dropping like a sack of rocks, Eshmun standing over him, warily eyeing Nocterra as she pushed herself up, still swaying but anger evident in her features.

Time stood still as the two Primarchs faced off against each other once more, the Lunar Guard standing beside their lady as the Keepers moved to stand alongside theirs. Nocterra’s grip tightened on Dawn and Twilight, her powers already flooding back, Eshmun’s intervention buying her time for her body to flush the effects from her system. For a moment it looked like Nocterra was going to launch herself forward once more and finish the unconscious Lazari. And then, the moment passed, one blade pressed to her forehead in a salute, the other dropping back to her hip, mag-locks taking the weight of the blade.

Eshmun returned the salute with one of his own, and with that, a calm fell over the two parties. Eshmun’s path was clear now, the side he stood with firmly held in his mind. Nocterra’s goal had been successful, the Keepers of the Flame would stand against the Tyrant Emperor.

The Lunar Guard surrounded their mistress, preparing to leave the world in the same manner they had arrived. Eshmun likewise turned, giving orders to his sons to bring forth both a stretcher and shackles for Lazari, Eshmun fully intending to heal his fallen brother, keeping him as a prisoner of war. Likewise high in orbit VIIIth Legion ships began to converge on the sole vessel bearing the colours of the Apostles of Lazari in the system, demanding surrender or promising destruction.

For a moment, none were focusing on Lazari himself, and it was here that the XIIth Primarch found his chance.

In a flurry of movement, Lazari leapt to his feet and leapt at Nocterra, maddened rage in his eyes as spittle flecked his teeth. The faint corona of an imminent teleportation was already surrounding the Dark Lady, even her reactions were not quick enough to do more than turn her head as Lazari lashed out.

Lazari’s meteor hammer whipped outwards, the ball on the end crashing against Nocterra’s jaw and discharging like a power maul, turning the bones to powder in an instant, spinning the Primarch of the XIXth so her back was facing her aggressor, the chain continuing to follow the weapons head, Lazari an expert with controlling the weapon, the chain twisting around her throat, the barbs cutting into her flesh as Lazari yanked the chain backwards.

Nocterra’s eyes bulged as she began to choke, the Lunar Guard beginning to move before disappearing in flash of teleport flare. Moments later, Nocterra vanished as well, the chain disappearing with her. Lazari managed a half scream as the warp rippled, briefly existing impossibly in the material realm. The scream was cut short as reality violently snapped back, Lazari disappearing as he was flung through the warp, unguided and unprotected.

Eshmun blinked at the sudden change, before roaring orders into his armours vox, giving orders to his fleet to scan for any signs of teleportation in the surrounding system, intent on finding his lost brother, nothing returning. High above in orbit, Nocterra let out a scream of her own, the barbed chain still wrapped around her neck, Lazari’s severed arm still clutching it. Without Lazari pulling the chain back, Nocterra quickly wrenched the barbed coil off her, an ugly scar remaining, the wound seared into her very soul.

Frantic calls to lend their own sensors to the Keepers’s search reached the fleet, the ship mistress moving to agree to the request before another call came in, this one sent from Noxim, bringing word of the Iron Lords fleet burning its way towards the Angelis Noctem’s homeworld. In an instant, any thought of aiding the Keepers was forgotten, the entire fleet of the XIXth legion simply vanishing, the secret warp entity known as Tuchulcha buried deep within the Blade of Salvation aiding in the impossible jump.

Eshmun smarted at the perceived abandonment, the Angelis Noctem offering no explanation for their disappearance. For weeks the VIIIth Primarch searched for his wayward brother, before finally, though he hated himself for it, being forced to give up the search. Unbeknownst to Eshmun, his search was entirely too small, Lazari having been flung clear across the galaxy, landing on a world all but untouched by the Imperium. It would be close to a year before he was found once more, most within the Imperium believing him dead, his insanity and rage building all the while.

Soon, the Keepers of the Flame threw their full weight behind the Secessionist cause, placed into the battleline to take the fight to the loyalist forces. Ever the humanitarian, Eshmun and his legion continued to be champions of the injured, treating any they found from both sides, imprisoning those from loyalist legions but never allowing them to be executed. As the war progressed, and Nocterra’s increasingly barbaric actions became public knowledge, broadcast across the Imperium, Eshmun came to despise his sister, coining the name for her actions in the later stages of the war that would stick for all time; The Trail of Atrocities, laying the blame for the most egregious actions and senseless slaughters of the innocent squarely at her feet, the wound opened in those days impossible to ever heal, even for the apothecary lord himself.

The Librarian Crisis
In the earliest days of the Great Crusade, psychic warriors began to spring up across all legions, some in few numbers, while in the XIXth, the occurrence was so commonplace as to form the majority. However, each legion trained, or didn’t train, these warriors according to their own desires and tactical doctrines, to varying degrees of success, no one method rising to prominence across multiple legions.

Alexios Justarion, Primarch of the Paragon Order and the first found Primarch saw this instantly upon his reunification with the Imperium, and yet it was not until his brother, Anbaqil of the Umbral Blades was found that progress was made, Anbaqil himself a psyker, and lending credence to the idea of a unified psychic program within the legions.

Soon, the pair created what they called the “Librarius Project”, a set of guidelines rather than hard rules for the utilisation, and more importantly safe training and usage, of those warriors with psychic powers. Many legions soon took notice of this, Anbaqil’s twin, Haqis'rahk placing his support behind the project, though it was vocal support at best, other needs taking up his attention far more than the project. Initially, the project went well, adopted across all legions, the XIXth legion in particular vocally supporting such a program, their voice carrying significant weight due to their high proportion of psychic warriors.

Under Alexios and Anbaqil, psykers were encouraged to a supporting, rather than frontline combat role, the emphasis placed on bolstering their allies or diminishing their foes and allowing more traditional methods and warriors to break the foe, rather than smiting them directly, such powers perceived as being far safer than offensive manifestations, though these were by no means outlawed, simply restricted to more veteran warriors who could be entrusted to control such power. Soon enough, these trained psykers, known as Librarians, were present in nearly every legion, none seemingly rejecting the ideas of the Librarius

This would continue until the founding of the final Primarchs, the Celestial Twins of Solaris and Nocterra. Looking at the Librarius Project, both Solaris and Nocterra, usually so opposed in their views, decried the organisation, the XIXth soon removing itself from the association. For Solaris, placing any sort of limitations upon his sons, which the Librarius did in abundance in the name of safety, was abhorrent, while Nocterra merely introduced her own personal training programs, created specifically for the warriors of the Angelis Noctem, turning them into fearsome warriors, using their own powers to bolster their strength, before reaching into the enemies bind to bring out their greatest fears. While she did not publicly decry the Librarius project, the effect was the same, Nocterra and the Angelis Noctem clearly caring nothing for the work that had been done by her brothers.

Though Alexios and Anbaqil attempted to sway one or both of the Primarch’s to their cause, Alexios in particular espousing the good the project had done, but neither of the twins would be swayed, and with their withdrawal of the project, the Librarius found itself diminished, at the time beyond repair. Other Primarch’s began to withdraw from the idea of the Librarius in their wake, returning to the early Great Crusade ways of training their warriors to their own, completely individual methods. Efficiency across the battle psykers of the legion, many still retaining the name of Librarians, began to fluctuate wildly, as did the reported number of victories they achieved and losses they caused.

Throughout the Great Crusade, and through the Great Secession itself, psykers continued in this way, fights between their kind on both sides of the schism often causing untold destruction, until finally, after the Scouring was completed and the Imperium began to look towards peace, another finally took notice of the project, Nemiza of the Hunters Eternal joining with Alexios and Anbaqil to once more revive the project.

In Nemiza’s mind, the Librarius could represent one of the most potent weapons available to the Imperium, while requiring the least amount of warriors to maintain. Alexios and Anbaqil agreed with this sentiment in a rapidly demilitarising Imperium, but both of the Primarch’s attentions were inexorably pulled away from the Librarius Project, Alexios with the new governing system of the Imperium, Anbaqil with reforming the Assassinorum. Nemiza however had no such restrictions on his time, his legion set to continue as it always had done, standing vigil against any xenos menace that appeared across the galaxy. In the years after he had joined the project, the Librarius training program became more and more militant, safety still a concern, but a secondary one, rather than the primary focus as it was under Alexios and Anbaqil.

When the other two members of this triumvirate returned, they found the Librarius changed, Nemiza and his ideas far too entrenched to oust easily. Battle Psykers were now the norm, warriors from most of the psychically active legions subscribing to these new training methods, efficient as they were.

Alexios immediately threw himself back at the project, working alongside Nemiza to start to reign in the project once more, prepared to slowly but efficiently bring safety back from its secondary position, placing it at the very least on a level footing as power, if not ahead once more. This undeniably would have worked, though it would take decades to affect the changes, though the process would have been sped up immensely if Anbaqil, who Alexios knew supported his way of thinking, had not stood silently by as the changes were made. Alexios continually petitioned his brother to aid his cause, but Anbaqil refused to be swayed, guilt of actions he had undertaken years earlier during the Great Secession.

During the earliest days of the Great Secession, Anbaquiland Haqis’rahk had fled Terra in the wake of being declared traitors, the Emperor spinning lies to the other legions, attempting to sway them to his side. Anbaqil had known that without the truth being revealed, few would doubt the Emperor’s words, and both he and those few legions alongside him, would be put to grass. With the Emperor’s forces, physical and psychic, closing in however, the transmission of information could not come from even a choir of astropaths, instead coming directly from Anbaqil himself, the Primarch reaching out and touching the mind of another, Veles, the Head Librarian of the Hunters Eternal.

Though Veles was powerful, Anbaqil and him having met during the times of the Librarius when it had first risen in prominence, he was but an Astartes, not a Primarch, the act of receiving the message and relaying it to his primarch too much for his body to handle, turning the warrior to dust even as the truth was laid bare. Though both Nemiza and Veles  saw the need for such an action, neither ever laying blame at Anbaqil’s feet, the blind Primarch of the IIIrd Legion never let the guilt of the death leave him, now finding it staying his hand, unwilling to act against Nemiza in matters of psychic training. Had he acted, maybe things would have been different, but as it was, a reckoning was fast approaching, a storm brewing on the horizon.

Close to nine decades after the end of the Scouring and the first election of Alexios as the elected lord of the Imperium, a cadre of Battle Psykers from the Hunters Eternal travelled to the world of Haphorix, a heavily populated world on the very edge of the Imperium, teetering on the edge of Rebellion. If Haphorix fell to treason, many worlds would likely follow, requiring the Legions to be drawn in from across the Imperium, the Storm Riders already preparing to deploy enmasse to repacify the worlds.

For the Hunters Cadre however, this was unneeded, preparing to use their powers to force the world back into compliance, preparing a mighty display of their psychic strength to awe or terrify the populace, the end result being the same. In their mind, this was what they had trained for, to act as small scale task forces to act and limit the need for full scale legion intervention.

Heedless of the fact they would be conducting an operation that placed Imperial Citizens at risk, the Hunters Cadre unleashed their ritual, channelling all their power without thought of reservation. Though Nemiza did not expressly command this action, nor did he know it was going ahead, each warrior was following the general orders of the Librarius, and utilising the training of their powers Nemiza’s ways had taught them, unleashing power without restraint, and there, on Haphorix, that power escaped them.

Raging out of control, the entire world was soon overwhelmed, psychic storms ravaging the world, mutating the populace as the Hunters became a power loop, unable to stop the channelling that threatened to open a new warp storm around the world. As the situation unfolded, both Alexios and Anbaqil reacted in horror, preparing to muster any forces they could to stop the situation, the Storm Riders massing to combat the event as well.

None would reach the world in time to aid in the pacification however, as unheralded, the Angelis Noctem fleet appeared above the world. Since the end of the Scouring, the XIXth Legion had been seldom seen by their brethren, focused as they were on recapturing the released horrors of the Dark Cells, imprisoning them within the new facility upon the dead world of Noxim. Now however, they made themselves known, the entire legion conducting a drop assault on the world as they fought to reach the Hunters.

In a lightning strike that had characterised the legion during the Great Crusade, the Angelis Noctem struck at the heart of the storm, Nocterra personally striking down the leader of the psykers, the storm weakening as it lost its catalyst, the legion withdrawing as it did so, erasing the world from the galaxy via exterminatus. The psychic event had been stopped, the Angelis Noctem successful, though not without great cost, hundreds of their warriors falling in the costliest battle in Astartes lives since the Great Scouring, most notably amongst them High Sentinel Eremille herself, Nocterra’s cold rage placing the blame for the death squarely at the feet of a single individual; Nemiza.

As the Storm Riders moved to pacify the worlds that rose in rebellion after the destruction of Haphorix, Nocterra and her legion arrived above the Hunters homeworld, but she was not the first to travel there, the flagship of Alexios hanging in orbit over the world's capital. Nemixa and Alexios had long been firm friends, the Primarch of the Paragon Order and leader of the Imperium had wasted no time in travelling to confront Nemiza himself upon hearing of the incident, refusing to believe that Nemiza had meant for any of this to happen, seeing the catastrophe not as an act of callous neglect, but as an honest mistake. Had Alexios been left to his own ways, Nemiza would have surely stepped back without hesitation, as distraught of what his own actions had caused, but as it was, Alexios did not have the time to reach this outcome before Nocterra arrived.

Wasting no time in teleporting to the surface, Nocterra emerged from the teleportation corona in a blur, her jetpack roaring, both blades already in her hands as she dove at Nemiza. The Primarch of the Hunters Eternal had little choice, reaching for one of his swords, the one known as Claw, leaving his other, Fang, in its sheath for the time being, settling into a defencive stance with practiced ease, calling to those who watched to not intervene. Alexios watched as the pair clashed, but did not seek to intervene, knowing that to do so would very likely have seen him cut down as collateral damage, Nemiza a well know master with the blade, and Nocterra reportedly his equal.

For the first time since the Great War itself, Primarch clashed with Primarch.

Both Nemiza and Nocterra had been regarded as some of the greatest warriors of the age, their skill with a blade legendary, and the fight showed that neither of them had lost any of their skill. For hours the pair fought, each blow met and parried in kind, Nocterra’s superior speed allowing her to avoid Nemiza’s more powerful blows, as well as darting outside of his draining aura, before moving back in to continue the fight.

Nemiza fought like a titan of old, his fighting style conservative and defensive, each move perfectly thought out and executed, as befitted the lord of the legion of weapon masters, but it was in this that Nocterra had an advantage. Nemiza was well known amongst the pantheon, his deeds legendary, as was his fighting style, and though Nocterra was no longer new to the Imperium, there were still few of the Primarch’s left who had seen her fight, Haqis’rahk of the Umbral Blades and Eshmun of the Keepers of the Flame to name but two. Nemiza was not one of these Primarch’s, and though he fought well, eventually the unknown that was Nocterra triumphed, slipping behind Nemiza, a curved sword hooked around his throat, the sickle blade designed for just such a strike. It seemed as though Nocterra would rip her blade backwards, taking her brothers head clean off. Nemiza’s warriors surged forward to protect their lord as his life was directly threatened, his earlier order cast aside, Alexios leading the way, his own seldom used Gladius leaping into his hand. He had been willing to see out the fight, to watch his siblings beat each other to bloody pulps if need be, but a senseless death over what had been an accident was quite another thing to stand by and watch.

It was not needed however, Nocterra pushing Nemiza away from her before stepping backwards, a teleport homer locking onto her in an instant, whisking her away to the Blade of Salvation still in orbit. Alexios cared little for her disappearance, helping his brother to his feet, taking his weight on his own shoulders, even if his wounds were more to his pride than of any physical injury. Nocterra had made her point, no words needed to convey it, Nemiza understanding all too well the extent of the enmity that his sister now held him in.

A Legion Reborn
Finally seeing that no matter the situation, her kin would always allow psykers to act without forethought, Nocterra finally weighed in on the Librarius Project, throwing her voice behind it and for the first time in her history, stepping fully into the limelight of the Imperium. Though many had not forgotten her actions during the Great War or the worlds that still bore scars from the atrocities she had willingly and knowingly ordered, far more agreed with her words about the need for such a change, and when Alexios’ time as elected ruler of the Imperium was over, Nocterra followed him, voted in to the office almost solely on a platform of psychic reformation.

Nocterra did not wish to simply revert the Librarius project to how it had been during the Great Crusade, seeing that phase as having already been tried and failed. Instead, she made plans to form an entirely new branch of Imperial Government, one that would fully centralise and standardise all training of psykers from across the Imperium, specifically those of the Legions themselves. These would be no mere guidelines as it had been throughout the Great Crusade, but laws to be enforced across the Imperium, deviation from them carrying the highest penalties.

Within a few short years, Nocterra and her government had turned the previously barren moon of Titan in the heart of the Sol System into a great facility, its sole purpose being to train the psykers of the legions, all psychically active Astartes to train upon Titan as techmarines did upon Mars. Great warding runes were carved deep into the moon's surface by Mechanicum mining lasers, ensuring that no powers would run ary on the moon, while Alexios and Anbaqil returned once more, using their knowledge to aid Nocterra’s new regime, the Triumvirate now reformed, two teachers and Nocterra as the overseer, her legion now acting as the guardians of this new facility.

Soon, warriors from all the legions began to come to the moon, trained by warriors of the Angelis Noctem to harness their powers, Nocterra positioning herself and her legion as the first generation of instructors in the facility, though this would soon change as warriors began to take to the unforgiving training, proving that they were capable of carrying on in the Angelis Noctem’s footsteps. Once training was complete, as decided upon by the Master of Titan, these warriors would be returned to their legion, further psychic training occasionally undertaken, though always under scrutiny of the Angelis Noctem. Only the XIXth seemed immune to this scrutiny, many of her opponents declaring this an act of supreme hypocrisy, Nocterra simply replying that he own sons, due to her genetic legacy, required far more intimate training than any other warriors to master their powers completely, her own training methods remaining an utter secret as they had been during the Great Crusade.

It was during Nocterra’s rule that the Black Fleets, long since abandoned with the destruction of the Silent Sisterhood, were re-established, Nocterra working alongside Léon of the Astron Lords to rebuild the mighty institution, the Astron Lords providing pilots and some of the guards, though the vast majority would be of mortal stock, many of them psychic blanks to survive the experience. Unlike during the Great Crusade, these fleets were not a place of terror, instead simply ferrying human psykers to various other  training facilities around the Imperium, smaller than Titan but built upon the same principle of standardisation, there to learn to control their powers, cybernetic blockers put in place on some of the more powerful ones, before being returned to their homes. Only the most powerful or dangerous of their kind were retained by the fleets, either to be imprisoned or executed for the safety of the Imperium, or to be recruited by the Angelis Noctem themselves, the legion beginning to recruit entirely from the psychic population after their own homeworld was destroyed.

In this way, the Angelis Noctem now transitioned from merely being primarily psykers, to all being psykers, each amongst their ranks standing as powerful practitioners in manipulating the warp. Standing anew as a psychically active legion in their entirety, the Angelis Noctem became the wardens of such power across the Imperium, and though they never forgot their mission to hunt and imprison the terrors of old night, they also made it their goal to hunt down those psykers who the Black Ships had not collected and to bring them to justice, whatever form that may take. Soon, the prison of Noxim was expanded, now containing rogue psykers and ensane, warp bolstered mutants, all kept at bay by the power of the Mantle of Deliverance. And yet for all this, even the Angelis Noctem had no true understanding of what the warp was, chaos as much of an unknown entity to them as it was to the rest of the Imperium.

For a while, these changes put Nocterra in good stead amongst the people, many seeming to forgive her earlier crimes, but as the years of her reign passed, it soon became clear she had no interest in ruling the Imperium, doing little now her reforms had taken place. When her term was up, she stepped back into the shadows without a word, another taking her place, Nocterra never to seek the power of the throne again, her sole changes to the Imperium now raught, written into law too thoroughly for anyone to attempt to undo again.

And so, finally, the Librarius achieved the standardisation that both Anbaqil and Alexios had wished to see for centuries, the pair still helping to mould the psykers of not just the legions, but of humanity itself, into powerful, and yet safe and contained, servants of the new Imperium.

Notable Campaigns

 * The Battle of Lerwick


 * The Fall of the Irathi
 * The Extermination of Zelara
 * The Black Star Rift
 * The Dual of Diy'rem
 * The Defence of Noxim
 * The Trail of Atrocities
 * The Fall of Proxima Centauri
 * The Solar War
 * The Siege of Terra
 * The Haphorix Incident

Great Crusade
Even in the earliest days of the Great Crusade, the XIXth Legion has defied the standard by which the Legiones Astartes were measured and organised, rarely if ever following the edicts of the Principia Belicosa. This was no mere disregard however, the legion holding the word of the Emperor as sacrosanct in all things, it was simply pragmatic. The Principia Belicosa had been designed for legions who fought in the standard ways, squads of bolter equipped warriors attacking alongside hundreds or thousands of their fellows. For the few in number and psychically potent XIXth however, such was not their way, a different structure springing up in its place.

An extremely flat command structure soon sprung up, and while companies and Battalions did exist, tactics were often developed and employed at squad level during combat rather than being part of a larger Legion-wide approach to strategy. As such, individuals squads were empowered to make tactical decisions of their own volition, trusted by those above them to act in service of the grander battleplan as they saw fit in the moment of battle, this soon giving rise to the most common of all XIXth axioms; That no plan, no matter how complex and well thought out, survived contact with the enemy.

Soon, infantry assaults were the most common form of combat from the XIXth, specialised vehicle formations rarely seen. Such troops were often employed as assault marines or else equipped as "reaver" squads and deployed via drop pod, all optimised for close quarters and wielding arms requiring limited resupply, the perfect warriors for operations undertaken far in advance of allied forced or deep behind enemy frontlines. It was a role they excelled at, and though they were far from the subtle infiltrators of the Umbral Blades, the XIXth soon excelled at such unsupported actions, their burgeoning psychic powers ensuring they could operate independently across large distances, remaining in contact with each member of their strike force with ease.

Indeed, such was the efficacy of this new form of combat that little actually changed when Nocterra was found, despite the vast surface level changes she wrought upon her warriors. Large-scale organisational formation were scrapped, companies and battalions fading completely from use, but such had in truth rarely been considered in the first place. Squads were renamed as Conclaves, but still expected to act as they best saw fit in the moment.

The greatest change, one that did affect the way in which the legion made war, was the formation of the Sentinel Council and the implementation of the Field Marshal rank. The Sentinel Council ruled the legion, Nocterra sitting at its head as they dictated the path that the Angelis Noctem would tread. It was by the word of this Council that the new rank of Field Marshal could be bestowed upon a warrior, a Drop Force assigned to their command.

These Field Marshals could be any within the legion, from the most ancient of veteran dreadnoughts to the rawest of recruits fresh from implantation. Age and seniority were a thing of the past, skill being considered above all, and as such, Field Marshals had absolute power to carry out their orders as they saw fit. Once assigned, a Field Marshal would be permitted to raise a Drop Force, assigned a levels of equipment and manpower they could draw upon. However, it was then placed upon this newly raised commander to select those they would take with them, drawing together individual Conclaves to serve this newest mission.

Some Field Marshals implemented their own rank structure, elevating Conclaves above others to better serve their will and ensure victory, but many, both Nocterra and High Sentinel Eremille included, imposed no such restrictions, commanding their Drop Forces as individuals Conclaves, whether than be a few hundred warriors or a legion wide deployment.

This was effective in the Angelis Noctem’s eyes, allowing for supreme battlefield flexibility and reactivity, made possible by the total trust each warrior had in their fellows. Many detractors scorned at the lack of structure, Zahviay Du Morafalle of the Titans of Vayrd'un in particular feeling that such an organisational rabble invited in chaos and ill-discipline, unbefitting of a legion. As ever, Nocterra cared little for the opinion of others, the structure remaining, proving itself time and time again as efficient and deadly in equal measure.

Once a battle was done, the Drop Force would return to Noxim, dissolving back into the legion as a whole, its Field Marshal relieved of their temporary rank and returning to their own Conclave, their to wait elevation once more or the call to service under a different Marshal’s Drop Force. There was no pride in the XIXth, no desire to maintain the power of a Field Marshal, one of ultimate responsibility within the Legions combat deployments. Power was bestowed and returned without complaint, ex-Field Marshals willing serving under those who had served beneath them in the battle before, the legion marching ever onwards, their Drop Forces returning victory after victory after victory.

Specialist Ranks and Formations
The Lunar Guard

One of the first changes wrought upon the XIXth Legion in the wake of their Primarch’s founding, after their change into the Celestial Host, was the restructuring of what had come before, and it was during this time that Nocterra brought forth an elite cadre to serve by her side, known as the Lunar Guard.

Clad in the finest armours of midnight blue and brightest silver, and girded with heavy jump packs, the Lunar Guard formed the core of the drop assault specialists of the Angelis Noctem. Each of their number was a veteran of a countless battles, as well as a consummate psyker in their own right, all being retrained to excel in Erebokinesis, Phobikinesis and Biomancy, the three main psychic disciplines used by the Angelis Noctem

Each warrior with artificer armour, as well as two pieces of unique wargear, the heavy jump pack, far larger and bulkier than those usually worn by the Legiones Astartes and allowing for greater bursts of speed and deceleration, and more importantly, the Mantle High Altitude Deployment Exoskeleton, often simply known as the HADES, a bulky exoskeleton housing sophisticated inertia dampeners and heavy shock absorbers

When battle calls, the Lunar Guard leap from the assault bays of low-orbiting Attack Craft, hardened sensors locking their coordinates in a fraction of a second, allowing the warriors to power downwards, their jetpacks on full burn. Standard practice is to intentionally make planetfall amongst the detritus of orbital combat, weaving in and around falling pieces of armour plating or displayed asteroids, using such debris to mask their descent completely. Only when they almost reach the grown do they flip over, burning their jets hard in a move that would break even an Astartes in twain, where it not for their armour, their enemies only realising they are under an assault when the Lunar Guard slam home like a macro-round, the warriors quickly leaping from their HADES and charging their disorientated foe, or at least whatever is left of them.

In battle, the Lunar Guard are a deadly force, scores accompanying Nocterra at all times.

Though they could claim any weapon from the armouries of the Angelis Noctem, most settled for the Lunar Falx that was used by so many others of the branch, large bore graviton pistols from an age long past often used in conjunction with these mighty blades, the Lunar Guard slicing or blasting their way through any who their lady had not yet reached out and silenced forever.

The Blinded Ones

A late addition to the battle rosters of the XIXth Legion and the Angelis Noctem, the Blinded Ones, also known as the Blinded, as they came to be known, were first formed from the ranks of the Nullifactor units that the Angelis Noctem had developed in the days of the Black Star Rift, training warriors to fight against the psychic power of the Supernal Seraphs, even while they themselves were psychic. Most of these warriors fought in the mostly disliked terminator armour variants the Angelis Noctem had to offer, wielding combi-weapons and vicious aether-shock mauls. However, one fringe group, led by Strikemaster Nicopolis, refrained from this standard of arms and armour, instead maintaining the use of artificer armour and jump packs, alongside judicious use of volkite weapons, actinic power swords, and most notably, the crossbow-like weapons later to be known as Condemnor weapons.

These weapons fired specially forged silver stakes, engraved with psychic sigils of the warriors own design, making the weapons unique to the individual who wielded them, only the most powerful of psykers able to empower the runes drawn by another.

These warriors would prove themselves during the final battle of the Black Star Rift, leading the charge alongside Nocterra and her Lunar Guard, leaving the slower terminator Nullifactors to bring up the rear where they saw heavy fighting. As Nocterra and Solaris engaged, the Wars of Solaris counter attacked the Angelis Noctem forces, the Lunar Guard, unable to stand against such a foe, withdrew, leaving Nicopolis and his warriors to push forward, their weapons perfectly suited for this task. Even so, the power arrayed against them was so great that many of the warriors were blinded as their eyes melted from their heads, forced to rely on their own psy-sight to continue the fight.

When Solaris was finally banished, his warriors reduced to dead husks or pulled into the warp with their master, Nocterra recognised the efforts of Nicopolis and his warriors. From that moment forward, their way would be enshrined within the XIXth Legion, even as Nullifactors began to see use amongst the rest of the Imperium. An elite force to stand alongside the Lunar Guard themselves, this new unit, now named the Blinded Ones, and still led by Blindmaster Nicopolis, would go on to prove to be a fearsome foe against any psykers who dared to stand against the Angelis Noctem. Soon, like the Lunar Guard themselves, those elevated to the rank of Blind One soon underwent a change, psychically taking on the guise of their Dark Lady, taking to the skies alongside their sire to punish any who threatened the Imperium of Mankind, even the Emperor of Mankind Himself.

The Sicarai

The Sicarai, the word roughly equating to “The Destroyers of Worlds” or “Angelic Destroyers”, are amongst the most feared warriors of the Supernal Seraphs, one of their Psychic Hosts, though unlike all others, they were not known by a number, only their designation; The Final Host.

The Sicarai stalk the battlefield with some of the most devastating weapons the Supernal Seraphs could bring to bear; near forbidden alchemical weapons, the crawling horror of Phosphex, lethal Cullgene gas and flesh-eating Vasgotex, not dissimilar from that found within the chemicals used by the Bane Wolf’s chem Cannon. These weapons were not what made the Sicarai deadly however, indeed, such weapons were almost an afterthought, after remaining mag-clamped to their bearers hips as they went about their far more specialised craft.

Clad in specially modified Cataphractii terminator armour known as Sicarai armour, the Sicarai are able to channel their powers far more completely than they would otherwise, runic inscriptions and purpose designed vents allowing their powers to run rampant around them, even as they themselves remained all but untouched by it, lacking the usual cellular degeneration, abnormally pale skin or yellowed-jaundiced eyes that were common across the ranks of destroyers in other legions.

The psychic powers of the Sicarai were no less unique than the armour they wore, no mere pyrokinetics or biomancers hurling simple flames. Instead, the Sicarai used a blend of all of these powers with far more visceral and primal warp powers, known as Fulmination. With such powers at their fingertips, warriors of the Sicarai could call forth lightning to lash at their foes, cause the enemies hearts to explode by literally boiling the blood within their veins or force the raw matter of the immaterium into the material realm in the form of bolts of crackling energy. When this power was unleashed, it not only billowed forth from hands, but was amplified by their armour, coursing through the plate and into the ground the Sicarai trod upon, irrevocably tainting it not with radiation or other alchemical horrors, but the pure, unbridled power of the immaterium itself.

All these facts alone would have made the Sicarai, the Final Host, unique amongst the other legions, but there was something else in their history that made them unique purely amongst the XIXth Legion. The Sicarai were first developed and utilised by the Supernal Seraphs, but taken up by the Angelis Noctem themselves in the hellish Civil War that later engulfed the galaxy, the Lunar warriors birthing the psychic destroyers anew in the wake of Noxim’s destruction. Equipped with new and deadly toxiferran weapons, hundreds of worlds would know their deadly touch as the Angelis Noctem began the campaign that would become known as Trail of Atrocities or the Reign of Terror.

Under Nocterra’s rule, the Sicarai were a purely volunteer group, the Dark Lady forcing none to join the deadly unit, and yet the unit quickly filled its ranks, many volunteering for what was likely a death sentence. Such wanton use of their powers went against much of Nocterra’s teachings, inviting the Ossification back in once more, but none flinched, the Sicarai deploying alone, only their own ranks standing beside them, their armour offering them some protection from their own powers that would see unprotected Angelis Noctem revert to the curse of bone almost immediately, something none wished to see be reborn unnecessarily.

Equipment
Like many legions, the Angelis Noctem laid claim to numerous pieces of equipment and wargear solely found within their own armouries, or else utilised more common equipment in ways near unique to their own ranks. These were either supplied to the legion by tithe rights and sworn oaths by the Mechanicum, or else were crafted by the Angelis Noctem themselves, especially in the case of psychic equipment, the Angelis Noctem being the greatest psi-artisans within the legions, possibly within the Imperium itself, even if they were merely average in more mundane forging. The most common piece of such equipment was the so-called “Lunar Falx”, a short sword that all but replaced standard chainswords or combat blades, the creation of which was something each warrior of the Legion undertook at the end of their augmentation. Created in the wake of Nocterra’s unification with the legion, the Lunar Falx appeared in the ranks of the legion in three distinct varieties, standard, powered and force-imbued, becoming a common sight as the legion hacked their way through any who stood in their way.

Another important piece of wargear utilised and crafted by the Angelis Noctem was the “Wraith Mantle”, perhaps the most important development in the wake of Nocterra’s arrival. Weaved from psi-reactive cloth spun from the silk of creatures native to Noxim’s eternal night into gossamer thin robes and hoods, though many were later reinforced with thicker, more hard wearing, fabrics. These were all but standard issue for the legion, their nature aiding in controlling the raging tides of the immaterium, calming it and allowing the wearer to wield its power far more safely than without, aiding especially in combating the dreaded Ossification.

Beyond this, the legion was known to utilise purpose built and bulky heavy jump packs, often in tandem with the Mantle High Altitude Deployment Exoskeleton, or HADES, both pieces of wargear working in tandem to deliver their Lunar Guard wearers to the battlefield in record time, allowing for bone shattering impacts to be survived with ease that would otherwise pulverise any Astartes not secured within a drop pod.

Finally, at least amongst the “commonplace” pieces of equipment, for none knew how many unique or semi-unique pieces of wargear the Angelis Noctem truly held within their armouries, the legion was known to utilise a near standardised pattern of Artificer armour, known as the Noxim Pattern. While each suit was individually crafted and worked upon, reflecting the personal preferences of its bearer, each Noxim suit followed similar patterns, cladding the female presenting warriors in protection was step down from terminator armour at a mere fraction of the weight, movements being utterly uninhibited by the mighty armour. Any who looked at the armour and thought it somehow less than standard Astartes warplate soon found themselves educated, usually mere moments before their own demise.

Angelis Noctem Armoured Forces
While the Angelis Noctem were not known for their deployment of vehicular assets, being primarily an infantry based legion, it would be wrong to assume they did not possess such assets, or could not wage war in such a manner. The Angelis Noctem did indeed possess an armoury of all the vehicles utilised by the Legiones Astartes, each maintained to impeccable standards, though as with the legion itself, they were few in number.

These vehicles were held in the Dark Fortress, the Angelis Noctem’s secretive Fortress Monastery, held on a legion level rather than assigned to a single force, such being impossible in the fluid organisation of the legion. Once a Drop Force was called to war and a Field Marshal assigned to lead it, these vehicles would be assigned out, placed under the command of the force for the duration of the campaign, before once again being returned to the legions armouries. These vehicles were mostly used to support infantry assaults, spread through the Drop Force to act as strong points, spreading their potent firepower throughout the force, rather than massing it in a singular place as other legions did.

Rarely, a mere handful of times throughout the Great Crusade, the Angelis Noctem would be called upon to fight a foe in which infantry were not adequate to ensure the destruction of the foe at hand, be it through the foes nature or the environment in which they were to be fought. In such rare cases, the Angelis Noctem would call forth a Drop Force comprised not simply of supporting vehicles, but an armoured force, dozens or hundreds of vehicles striking together to smash the enemy asunder.

Transports were by far the most common armoured vehicles, the ubiquitous Rhino being prized for its speed, while the larger land raider was often passed over, its armour and weaponry great, but its speed a crucial lacking factor. Similarly, Predators, Vindicators and the new Sicaran tanks were far more prized over the cumbersome Malcador or the super-heavy forms of Fellblades, Falchions and Glaives, such vehicles rarely used.

However, it was artillery that saw the least use within the legion, for while super-heavy tanks may have been seldom used due to their ponderous speed, their firepower was required against particular foes. Artillery on the other hand was completely in opposition of the Angelis Noctem’s combat doctrine, the legions Whirlwind missile tanks and other patterns of mobile artillery remaining in the armouries of the Dark Fortress, seldom to see the light of day or the fire of battle.

The Angels Wings
While the Angelis Noctem may have had a small armoured reserve, even for their size, such could not be said for their arsenal of aerial vehicles, the legion making extensive use of a wide range of atmospheric, orbital and void-capable craft, from the heavily armed Fire Raptor gunship and tank hunting Roc Pattern Storm Eagle, through to transports such as the noble Storm Eagle, the Thunderhawk or the mighty Stormbird dropship.

Such assets were always included in an Angelis Noctem Drop Force, following behind the first wave of drop pods or Lunar Guard orbital assault troops, Primaris Lightning Fighters and Xiphon Interceptors engaging enemy aircraft, allowing transports to set down heavier assets directly into the fighting, yet another reason vehicles larger than a Land Raider were seldom used within the legion, heavy transporters for super heavy assets being more of a liability than an asset in such actions.

Often, due to the rapid paced assaults and withdrawals of the legion, air support would remain on station for the duration of the assault, providing much needed fire support before extracting the warriors on the ground and withdrawing, their mission complete. However, in longer engagements, such was not possible, aircraft were forced to return to low orbit to refuel and rearm. In such instances, the legion employed was known to employ rotating wings of ground attack and interceptor craft, ensuring that some aerial assets would always be on station, rather than deploying en-masse one moment, and all withdrawing to rearm the next, leaving the skies open for an enemy to surge back in.

Specialised Aerial Assets

The Angelis Noctem not known as great smiths or tech adepts as some of the legions were, far from it in many cases. They were however more than capable in such tasks, and importantly, kept separate from the eyes of the Mechanicum in many of their campaigns, deploying legion forces alone, or else alongside the Emperor’s Custodian Guard. This, combined with the varied forces the legion chose to combat, often gave rise to unique “pariah” vehicles, aircraft chief amongst these.

These pariah vehicles were modified by the legion to combat a singular enemy, often with little to no regard for the sacred doctrine of the Mechanicum and their hallowed STC’s, giving rise to entirely new vehicles that would be named heretek were they to become known. These were often simple modifications, switching standard weapon mounts for ones that were never officially sanctioned, but could also stretch to far more major alterations.

The most well known, at least within the ranks of the Angelis Noctem, example of this was during the Fall of the Irathi, legion tech marines removing the mighty volcano cannons and power generation units from Falchion Tank Destroyers and placing them within the cargo bays of Apophis Pattern Stormbirds, turning the mighty transport into a fast moving fire support platform. These modifications were integral to the victory on that world, never to be recorded in official after-action reports, the modifications undone before the legion returned home, well in advance of any Mechanicum eyes falling upon such violation of their sacred machines.

The Angelis Noctem Fleet
The Angelis Noctem boasted an extremely large fleet proportionally to the number of Astartes they could muster, and though it was not a match for the vast fleets of the Void Walkers, it was nonetheless an impressive sight to behold when mustered above Noxim. Few of these vessels were capital class however, the Legion boasting fewer than thirty of the heaviest capital ship classes, these venerable warships called into service for only the harshest of actions, designed almost all of their number optimised for ship-to-ship combat and orbital bombardment, rather than ferrying Astartes across the galaxy.

This left the main body of the fleet composed of smaller vessels, divided into two distinct sections of the fleet. Light Battle Barges and mid-scaled cruisers, often classified under the new “assault cruiser” or “strike cruiser” designations and suited for rapid insertions and boarding actions, formed the killing power of the fleet, held in reserve until absolutely necessary, often running under minimal power to lessen the chance of their own detection.

However, it was in Frigates and Destroyers, often known simply as the Vanguard, that the legions fleet truly had its strength, Nocterra and her children seeing them as the perfect herald for the Angelis Noctem’s arrival. Deployed in vast squadrons, often far larger in number than standard Imperial doctrine would dictate, these ships would swarm their foe, presenting dozens of targets to their foe, while they themselves could mass their firepower against a singular target.

These ships were often augmented with additional armour, void shields and weaponry by the Mechanicum or the legion themselves, which allowed for the long-range independent operations of small task forces, perfect for the numerous Drop Forces of the legion.

These escort would strike at the enemy as the Vanguard, minimal cruiser support providing them with strong points through their line, attacking with speed and ferocity, like attack dogs used by the Titans of Vayrd'un, harrying and overwhelming their quarry. Squadrons, known as flotilla’s, of cruisers, often a mixture of standard and light vessels, would engage the larger enemy battleship, the escorts swarming their allies to prevent them from being relieved, before deploying their warriors to the surface. Only in the largest of pitched battles would the heavier ships be deployed, itself a rare occurrence as the Angelis Noctem instead struck at unprotected parts of their enemy, drawing their strength in a million different ways, before finally moving to strike at the now unprotected throat.

War Disposition
The Angelis Noctem had always been regarded as one of the smallest of the Legiones Astartes, a combination of their poor quality geneseed and losses to the Ossification before Nocterra’s arrival, Nocterra’s own stringent recruitment policies and simple time, Nocterra being found last amongst the primarchs, a scant 70 years before the end of the Great Crusade.

During the Great Crusade, and for much of the Great Secession, the exact size of the Angelis Noctem was often difficult to ascertain, due to the seemingly lax attitude or indeed outright avoidance many of its commanders held towards the filing of accurate and regular reports with the Divisio Militaris.

As such, many of the Imperium's commanders often believed the Angelis Noctem to be a much larger force than it actually was, a fiction mostly attributed to the tendency of the Legion's various detachments to move from war zone to war zone as they willed, and the utter lack of mundane heraldry.

However, some of the more accurate and sequestered reports, including those from the Angelis Noctem themselves, place their highest numbers at a mere 30,000 strong, easily at the lowest end of the legions in terms of numbers. This was further reduced by both the Black Star Rift and the Rangdan War, and by the time of the Great Secession, the legion is believed to number between 8,000 and 10,000 warriors.

These minimal numbers, even with each surviving warrior being a battle hardened veteran the equal of the greatest of other legions, meant that the legion was all but a non-issue in a legion vs legion fight, their competency on the battlefield meaning little when outnumbered many times over. However, under Nocterra’s guidance, and using the warp entity Tuchulcha to guide the fleet, the Angelis Noctem became a feared force for those away from the frontline, civilian worlds or mortal reserve troops slaughtered by the vengeful legion, before they disappeared once more, remaining out of the worst of the fighting, putting their minimal numbers to terrifying use.

The Sentinel Council
The Sentinel Council is one of two permanent formations within the Angelis Noctem, the other being the Conclave, the lunar XIXth’s analogy to a squad. While a conclave deploys to battle as a singular force, the Sentinel Council does not, indeed Nocterra prohibiting the entire council from deploying to a single battle, or at least a single front in a battle, reducing the chances of the entire council being wiped out in a single lucky blow from the enemy. Equally, the entire Sentinel Council rarely meets in the same location even in supposedly safe locations, the Dark Fortress and the Mantle of Deliverance being the only places such meetings are permitted, all other meetings being conducted from different warships over vox and holo-projection, such a method being more than sufficient for a war council.

Like many other legions, the Sentinel Council serves to advise Nocterra in all matters, however, unlike most others, the Sentinel Council also rules the entire legion, Nocterra standing as one of their number, an equal in theory, though never in practice. Twelve of the Sentinel Council will govern every aspect of the legion, from assigning Field Marshals and dictating the numbers assigned to a specific Drop Force, through to new training methods and administering the final test of the Notching, a single Sentinel always stationed at the Dark Fortress to oversee this process.

The twelve, Nocterra, High Sentinel Eremille and ten Sentinels chosen directly by Nocterra, make up the majority of the Sentinel Council, but there is another member, the thirteenth, unique in his nature, as unlike all others, he shares no link to the Angelis Noctem. He is Ricmod Hedrossa Pyrope Iovita Agrippa Taurinox, along with a host of other inscribed names, a Warder of the Vaults of Rython, one of the Emperors own Custodian Guard.

Ricmod remains silent in almost all matters of running the Angelis Noctem, refusing to comment in matters not his own. When the legions true quarry comes to light however, those terrors unleashed by mankind in the dark ages of the Age of Technology, Ricmod speaks, working with the Angelis Noctem to coordinate their actions with that of the Warders, sometimes giving voice to the Custodes entirely dealing with a foe, others to say they will not participate, while at others still he may say that a joint operation will be undertaken, the two forces working together in a perfect synergy that could only come from such an in depth joint plan.

Beyond this however, the Council serves to ensure all plans created and executed by the legion are analysed from every angle before being put into action. It is a fact common across the Angelis Noctem that any, from the newest inductee into the legion, after they have passed the Notching of course, to the most ancient of veteran dreadnoughts, may voice their concerns with any actions the legion is taking and have them addressed by their superiors without fear of reprisal as in some legions, where questioning authority is forcefully discouraged. Upon the Sentinel Council however, if even a single warrior raises a concern, that action will pause, no further movement possible until the concern is addressed in full to the satisfaction of the member who raised it. In this way, no glaring issues slip by unmentioned, twelve pairs of eyes looking over every plan, thirteen on those that concern the ultimate prey of the legion, ensuring that every possibility has been looked for, scrutinised and accounted for.

Of course, the Angelis Noctem are firm believers in no plan surviving contact with the enemy, and though they spend much time planning their actions, onus often placed upon the Field Marshal elected to lead the mission, be that a lowly Strikemaster, or Nocterra herself, that Field Marshal being provided with all available information, planned actions and the numbers assigned to them. It is up to that Field Marshal to do with that information as they will, some sticking to the created plans, while other, more veteran Field Marshals, may entirely change it, organising their forces to their own command preferences and striking in their own manner. It is a testament to the bonds between Astartes in the Angelis Noctem that such a seemingly chaotic structure for planning and executing missions not only works, but boasts a nearly perfect success rate, the Angelis Noctem having one of the smallest tally’s of victories to their name, but also the smallest percentage of losses compared to those victories.

Recruitment
Though the geneseed of the XIXth Legion, at least that which does not originate from Solaris himself and seemingly defies traditional genetic understanding, has always been more taxing on its host than most, struggling with high rejection rates and fatalities before being reunited with their Primarch and becoming the Celestial Host. This was largely resolved by Nocterra’s unification with the legion and her new training, and implantation did become more stable, rejection rates dropping as they did with all legions, and yet their numbers did not spike to the extent of many of the other legions, expanding but not exploding upwards.

This was due to the brutal and visceral training of the Lunar Branch of the XIXth legion. As it was on Noxim before the coming of the Imperium, Solaris would take in many followers, the Supernal Seraphs having a far laxer recruitment more in line with their fellows, but for Nocterra and her sons, nothing but the strongest and hardiest would find purchase within her ranks.

Nocterra shows little involvement with those of Noxim, Solaris ever the popular sibling, and yet every Angelis Noctem claims to have experienced the same vision; a shadowy figure standing firm against death itself. Whether this is simply memories of Nocterra’s stand against the long dead Night Wraiths, or if Nocterra, the Mistress of the Slumbering World, implants these messages in those she sees as potentially worthy, none can say, Nocterra ignoring even direct questions put to her on the matter.

Whatever the reason, the result is inexplicably the same, whether it is an instant response or one taking many moons to come to fruition. The youth, sometimes barely even teenagers, step beyond Solaris’s light, willingly walking into the near total darkness of Noxim, as dangerous as it was in the years before Nocterra, Solaris and the Night Wraiths.

Only by undertaking this act, showing no fear, could a recruit even hope to gain the entrance into the legion, veteran members of the Angelis Noctem forever stalking the darkness, looking for those who show the spark and spiriting them away to the Dark Fortress, a place shrouded deep within the crust of Noxim. None outside of the Angelis Noctem have ever set eyes upon the Dark Fortress and lived, even Solaris is not privy to its location. Some even whisper that it is not a physical location at all, that Nocterra has created her own personal domain within the warp, but few believe such clearly preposterous stories; the Angelis Noctem never speaking of their first home, even as the official Celestial Hosts fortress resided far above on the Mantle of Deliverance.

Upon being brought to the Dark Fortress, the children were stripped of everything they had brought with them, even their names being torn away, a number assigned in their place, an identifier they would bear until they were finally deemed worthy of selecting a new name upon their ascension to the legion. Until such a time, they were nothing, something that was constantly drilled into them, breaking them down even as they were moulded into what the Angelis Noctem required of them.

Cohesion, brotherhood, unity to the Imperium and to the Angelis Noctem was hammered into the recruits’ minds at every moment of their training, psycho-induction rigs bombarding their thoughts as they slept, strict drillmasters providing verbal and physical instruction and punishment to drive home the message, and above all, psychic suggestion and manipulation altered the minds of the soon to be Astartes, changing everything, save a single thought that each recruit had; that of their vision of the Dark Lady that started them upon this journey.

Fatality rates were high during this training, and many would point to this training as overly brutal, showing a callous disregard for those who could one day serve the Imperium, all while pointing at Solaris as an example, the Lightbringer allowing a far laxer training regime for his sons. As with everything that Solaris offered however, it was the easy path, the road of least resistance that the masses flocked to.

Nocterra never hid her contempt for such individuals, their fear of the dark and need to find order in the light. She did not need sycophants as her twin did, she did not need hundreds of thousands of worshipping masses as the Lightbringer seemed to require. Indeed, Nocterra would have been happier to have been left with but a single of her Angelis Noctem, loyal, fearless and entirely given over to her and her ideals, than to have a million standing simply for what they believed she wanted, as many of the Supernal Seraphs did for Solaris.

Throughout their training, a recruit learnt what it was to be one of Nocterra’s chosen, a brotherhood with few equals, the bonds forged all but unrivaled amongst the other legions, allowing for their utterly devoid command scheme. They were the warriors Nocterra wished for, a queen and her few loyal knights and friends, not a King and his legions of self-advancing footmen.

After many years, as the warrior stood upon the precipice of becoming a full member of the warriors of the night, one final task remained. Compared to most final trials, it seemed simple, the forging of a blade, and yet the blade was no normal blade. The Lunar Falx, a single handed sword that all members of the legion carried, was no simple thing to craft, the blade and metal of its forging requiring an exacting standard to be met. Upon completion of their weapon, the recruit would stand unarmoured before a robed member of the Angelis Noctem. Raising their new weapon above their head, the recruit would prepare themselves as the Angelis Noctem deliverd a single blow with their own Lunar Falx, an unpowered version of the popular power and force weapon used by the Angelis Noctem.

The blow is well rehearsed by the warrior, angled in such a way that if the recruit wavers, if they show fear or doubt, their own sword will not stop the falling blade. Likewise, if they have failed in their construction of their Falx, their weapon will snap, their ascension ending as their skull is split in twain. No pity is given to those who fail here, their remains disposed of without ceremony, but for those who do not waver, who stand their ground before a superior foe and stare unflinching at a blow that could mean their death, their journey ends in success.

Known as The Notching, so named for the characteristic notch it leaves in the new Angelis Noctem’s sword, this is the last thing they will do as a recruit, claiming their new name as they rise to the ranks of the Angelis Noctem. It is here, and only here, that Nocterra will make herself known to her sons, the new recruits travelling directly to their Primarch to swear loyalty to her in their new state, the Dark Lady making her own pledge as she in turn kneels before them, sealing the pact that was begun so long ago with a single, simple vision.

In the times after the Great War and the destruction of Noxim, the process remained all but unchanged, expanding from beyond a single world in the wake of the Black Ships re-establishment. Psyker children who may never have seen an Angelis Noctem or heard the stories of Nocterra would suddenly be struck with the same vision as those of Noxim so long ago, invariably sending them into what some would simply regard as a rambling mess, but to the guards of the Blackships, instructed in such matters by both the Angelis Noctem and the Astron Lords, its meaning was clear.

Soon, these recruits would be removed from the Black Ships holds, spirited away to the Mantle of Deliverance, there to begin the training as all others undertook. The death toll grew in those years, the vision no longer sparking a walk into the darkness, and as such requiring greater levels of weeding out the weak from the strong out than before. Likewise the training took longer than during the crusade, Nocterra’s own laws mandating that each psychic Astartes must receive training on Titan, her own legion no different, even if it is in name only, Angelis Noctem recruits training apart from the other legions.

Finally, the forging of blades had changed alongside the new legion. No more did the recruit forge a blade from a single type of material, instead being tasked with seeking out the knowledge and the materials to create a force weapon of their own. These recruits, referred to as Wanders, would prowl the galaxy, given only a simple robe, scavenging or bartering for whatever equipment they need to achieve their self-set task.

Some recruits would travel to forge worlds, spending years working a single piece of adamantium, pressing and rolling the metal, inscribing micro-runes of power and control into each layer of the blade, while others travel to the deadliest feral and death worlds the galaxy has to offer, from the ice plains of Fenris to seek the tooth of a Kraken, beset on all sides by the deadly weather and savage occupants, or the dead worlds of the Halo Zones, searching for skeletal remains of long dead civilisations to claim and carve runes of their own design into.

Whatever form they take, these Wanderers eventually return to the Mantle of Deliverance, holding their new force weapons aloft for the Notching, still unchanged. Warriors who have survived the genetic enhancements of Nocterra, who survived their stint as Wanderers and who survived crafting their own blade, have fallen at this final hurdle, but their numbers are few, this stage almost a formality in the modern age.

With the Notching complete, the new Angelis Noctem would once more travel to Nocterra, falling on bended knee before her and pledging to serve the Dark Lady. The final difference here, something once reserved for only the elite of the crusading legion, is the change, the recruit kneeling as a man, but rising in the guise of Nocterra herself, the entire legion now taking on the guise of the elite crusade force, a link to the legions past, one never to be forgotten, no matter the changes on the road ahead.

Legion Tactical Markings and Heraldry
While the Supernal Seraphs reveled in the use of complex but regimented symbology to define a warriors exact place within the solar branch of the XIXth, the Angelis Noctem, as ever, opted for a far more subtle way of donating rank, one utterly incomprehensible to almost all of humanity or the trans human legions, but that fitted their near non-existent and flat command structure.

Each warrior of the Angelis Noctem, though they were not the artificers or smiths of some legions, customised their armour to greater or lesser degrees, inscribed runic markings, inlaid silver trim, bonding studs and more besides, but none of these donated the few ranks the legion possessed, any who attempted to order the markings to find some sort of pattern doomed to failure and insanity from the chaos of the system. Any that is, except Psykers.

As befitted a legion of Psykers, the Angelis Noctem use their psychic potential to donate their ranks, utterly invisible for any without a sixth warp sense. Each warrior bears a psychic rune upon their forehead, ‘etched’ into both the armour and the warriors own flesh by psy-artificers after a Field Marshal was assigned and warriors chosen for their drop force. This served to further emphasise that each warrior of the legion was an equal, none save the Sentinel Council bearing a rune when away from the field of battle, rank only given for a single campaign, removed at the moment of its completion, with those who served as a Field Marshal one day May instead serve as a Strike Master or even a simple line legionary the next. Rank was a fluid thing within the Angelis Noctem, Nocterra having it no other way.

With these in place, even those of the XIXth who could not outwardly manifest their psychic abilities could muster enough connection to the warp to read these runes. Outsiders not skilled in the finer arts of the Angelis Noctems rune crafting would see a warriors name and rank, perhaps getting a subconscious feeling of a warriors pedigree, though little concrete information was avaliable, but to those those skilled in reading such runes, far more was knowable with but a glance. Name and rank were simply, but beneath they saw the truest history of the warrior, plucked forth by the psi-artificers and placed for their kin to see, unfettered by shame or pride. These were the ultimate tests of a warriors loyalty to Nocterra and her angels, any falsehood quickly seen and routed out, fostering a total and utter trust that mere words or deeds could simply never match.

Of course, to those outside of the Angelis Noctem’s ranks and without the aid of psychic sight, this was simply yet another confusing layer of the seemingly rankless legion, few knowing if the warrior they spoke to was a commander or the lowest rung in a mighty war machine. This led to distrust following the Angels of Darkness throughout the crusade, especially amongst those legions who thrived upon or required order in their military hierarchy such as the Titans of Vayrd'un or the Immaculate Sons, and though it rarely caused major issues, it did serve to widen any gaps between the legions, leading to get more distrust being formed surrounding the lunar warriors

This suited the Angelis Noctem perfectly, the legion doing little to change or accommodate those who could not see as they did. As with everything, the legion did not hide, they were not subtle or skilled in the art of stealth as the Umbral Blades were, but they did wear their truths close to themselves, obfuscating themselves akin to the night itself, visible externally, but maintaining unknowable depths that from the outside could only be guessed at or pieces together from half snatched glimpses and visions of possible never-were’s.

Great Crusade
The Angelis Noctem are known, as much as anything is known about the tiny subset of the Celestial Host, as a force of drop assault warriors with few equals, specialising in rapid insertions from orbit into the harshest of combat zones. Whether it is squads screaming through the atmosphere within Drop Pods or Dreadclaws, the Lunar Guard falling from just below the upper atmosphere amongst orbital debris from the battles that often still rage above, or the rare but not unheard of terminator units of the legion appearing in flashes of teleporter flares, the Angelis Noctem waste no time in getting to grips with the enemy, capitalising on this momentum to keep the foe off balance to offset their diminutive size.

However, this is far from the only string to their bow, for the Angelis Noctem are every bit as potent in the psychic arts as the Supernal Seraphs are, specialising and honing their powers into just a few disciplines, taking after the Dark Lady herself. Where the Angelis Noctem walk, darkness falls, the darkest nights falling even on worlds of perpetual day, the legion bringing the void along with them. From this darkness they strike, not to cover their advance, few can miss the sudden nightfall, but to spread terror throughout the ranks of the enemy as their worst nightmares rise to greet them. Often, this is assisted by yet more application of psychic powers, warriors of the Angelius Noctem tapping into the fear their presence causes, following the feelings back to their source within their foes mind and amplifying it, causing even hardened warriors to flee, and lesser warriors to simply curl up, their terror overwhelming their senses, rendering them catatonic, easy prey for the approaching XIXth.

Of course, there are times such a rapid drop assault is not possible, zone mortalis warfare is a particularly disliked form of combat for the Angelis Noctem, as well as protracted siege actions that see their enemies walled up within their own defences. Here, the Angelis Noctem cannot merely drop into combat, forced to rely on other methods of warfare.

Zone Mortalis combat, be it on voidships, underground tunnel networks or ferrocrete bunker complexes, are avoided if at all possible, but at times when it is not, the teleportariums of the legion are used to their fullest effect, or else lighter armoured, fast moving despoiler squads tear the enemy apart, abandoning staying power or attempting to seize the ship in favour of lighting strikes, crippling systems, blowing airlocks and sabotaging the vessel before withdrawing. At times when such a withdrawal must be covered by warriors of some form, the Angelis Noctem are known to fall back upon the abhuman species known as Ogryns, augmented in a similar fashion to the Charionites of the Solar Auxilia. Kept in reserve on all Angelis Noctem vessels in cryo-stasis tubes, these ogryns are a last resort option, but can be released in a moments notice, pumped full of enough combat stimms to turn the already brutal warriors into whirlwinds of death, ensuring the enemies of the Angelis Noctem focus more on them than the withdrawing Astartes.

Sieges are little different in the way the actions are fought, swift strikes and withdrawals the norm, rather than the take and hold methods of some legions. However, it is when the legion does not fight that the differences appear, heightened when Nocterra herself takes to the field. Shrouding the besieged fortress or city in eternal night, the defenders soon find themselves plagued by night terrors, real enough to send a grown man screaming from his slumber, placed their by the psychic might of the Dark Lady and her sons and daughters. Each time the defenders sleep, these projected visions return, preying on the viewers greatest fears, and when combined with the lack of a visible day night cycle, soon takes its toll on mortal minds, soldiers soon becoming too weary to lift their rifles, let alone watch for Imperial attacks. It is then the Angelis Noctem strike, followed by mortal soldiery of the Imperial Army, their own minds fresh and untroubled by the visions of their foe. What follows is invariably a massacre, one force fresh, the other barely awake. The Angelis Noctem do not fight for glory or subscribe to the notion of a fair fight, for them, only the victory matters, and any underhanded tactics will be undertaken to ensure that victory is seized.

Noxim
A world on the very edge of known space, the world of Noxim lies in the south eastern fringes of the galaxy, beyond the traditional light of the Astronomicon. The planet was clearly once a bounteous one, its surface littered with ancient cities and works of art, as well as numerous examples of relics of the Dark Age of Technology, but all of these mean nothing to the citizens of the world, who live their lives in eternal near darkness, the day and night cycle none existent. The star that had once provided the world with its power has long since burnt away, nothing but a crumpled and twisted metal structure designed to harness its energy left to mark its passing, the world only surviving due to a few remaining instances of functional archeotech, heating the world enough to stave off freezing, but doing little for the comfort of the world's inhabitants. As such, the people of the world were dour and sullen, this being a hard trait to shake even as the world changed. All of this added up to make Noxim one of the most miserable worlds to live on, its well-earned moniker speaking true, naming the planet as the “World of Eternal Night”.

All this however would change with the coming of the Celestial Pair.

The Celestial Pair, those eventually known as the Primarch’s Solaris and Nocterra were for a time unknown to the world, travelling its almost pitch black surface unheard of. That was until the elder of the pair, the one who would be Solaris, learnt of the great Archeotech device held in the worlds orbit, known only as the Mantle of Deliverance. The Mantle was a massive psy-array, large enough to channel the power of the immaterium through to weave magics of greater portent than would have been possible without such aid. Using the Mantle did the elder twin cast a great ritual, pouring his power through the psy-circuitry, bolstering it to levels unheard of, creating light which had not existed on Noxim for untold generations, close to five thousand years by some estimations. Many went blind in those first days, forced to shield themselves and develop hasty protection to better look upon the new god who had brought back the sun. Solaris was born that day, the undisputed ruler of Noxim without a single shot fired.

This however caused further, unforeseen problems, and though the world now knew light and life, not merely survival, for the first time in generations, it also now played host to terrors from the darkness, awakened by the new star in the sky. Only one stood against them, standing vigil as the creatures who hated the light stole in during the night, seeking to find the source of their new pain and kill it, returning the world to the darkness. This guardian was the younger twin, who had cautioned Solaris from upsetting the natural order so radically. In time, she too was given a name by those few who began to worship her; Nocterra, the Dark Lady. Eventually, the Emperor of all Mankind arrived on the world, drawn there by psychic communions from his two final lost creations, and with that, Noxim became one with the Imperium, the furthest reaches of mankind’s empire.

Now as part of the Imperium, Noxim stands as a shining example of what the Imperium is capable of, cadre’s of psykers powering the Mantle of Deliverance where once only Solaris had such power, even as the Mechanicum work tirelessly to replicate the heat and light the orb gives out, so the world may be truly free from the crutch of psychic nurishment.

The Mantle of Deliverance
Of all the archeotech on the world of Noxim, of which there is no shortage, none come close to the supreme importance of the Mantle of Deliverance, even the gargantuan heating complexes that sustained the world during the long darkness of Old Night could not match its import, for it was with this device that Solaris finally gave birth to new light once more, doing away with the shadows that had taken root upon the planet.

The Mantle of Deliverance is huge in scale, easily the size of the largest moons of the Sol System, but entirely artificial in its composition. Crafted from a strange crystal of unknown providence that defies all attempts to study it, the Mantle is inscribed with great circuit like patterns and psy-boosting runes, carved exactly a kilometer into the otherwise smooth surface, all created to a precision impossible by even the greatest of Martian Machinery, leading many to believe that the Mantle was created not by machines, but by the mind itself.

The initial purpose of the Mantle of Deliverance is unknown, though some have speculated it was created in an attempt to pre-empt the failure of the system’s dying star, something that was clearly not completed in time, or else lacked some component that left it dormant for millenia. When it was finally rediscovered however, used by the Primarch Solaris, the Mantle of Deliverance proved its design was more than capable of living up to the current needs of the world, giving light to Noxim once more. Now, in the Age of Imperium, the Mantle of Deliverance is staffed not by a Primarch, but by a cadre of over a thousand Psykers, arrayed together in a great choir, their task to keep the Mantle of Deliverance spinning onwards, providing life to the world below.

The Night Wraiths
Noxim had many predators upon its surface during its history, creatures that could rend a full grown man limb from limb with little difficulty, evolved to hunt in the darkness in a way humans could barely match with the technology at hand. However, these were mortal creatures, able to be fought and killed in conventional ways by mundane means, the populace learning to fight against their kind, taking it in their stride with the other hardships they faced daily.

The Night Wraiths were different.

Created not by random chance or xenos intervention, the Night Wraiths were an all too human creation of the Dark Age of Technology, spun from the genelooms of maddened scientists for some unknowable purpose. Unaging, immune to even the most devastating of mortal weapons, and possessing a hunger that nothing could satiate, feeding on the very dreams of humanity, trapping their victims into a screaming nightmare from which they could never wake, locked into their terrifying slumber. Indeed, the world of Noxim only survived because the Night Wraith’s slumbered in the eternal darkness, leading some, Nocterra included, to believe the world's sun had been intentionally destroyed to stop their progress, the Mantle of Deliverance designed as a way to provide light that would not wake them once more, though whether the Mantle failed or Solaris simply did not take such an occurrence into account, none can say, for when the Mantle lit up the skies of Noxim, so too did it wake the Night Wraiths.

Infuriated by the new light but unable to step within it, the Night Wraiths began to strike all across the darkness left behind by the Mantle’s passing, uncaring of the weapons humans could bring to bear against them, the death toll spiking, Solaris ignoring it, promising his people he would lock their new star in place, giving them sanctuary from the evils of the night. Only Nocterra strode forth, as then unnamed, blades of darkened Nightmare Steel clutched in each hand. There, she did battle with the Night Wraiths, a god of the night as her brother was a god of the day, her weapons more than capable of rending the creatures apart and ending their miserable existence.

Soon, her deeds became known, leading the bravest of the world to seek her out, standing alongside her in a futile but meaningful gesture. Though they could do nothing against the Night Wraiths as they were, they were emboldened by their god, their nerves steeled, training not to kill, but to drive the Night Wraith’s to Nocterra so she may finish what they could not. Soon, Nocterra was named by her flock, the whispered name of Dark Lady becoming commonplace, though nowhere near the levels of Solaris the Lightbringer, Nocterra always remaining in her brothers shadow.

By the time the Emperor of Mankind arrived on Noxim, the Night Wraiths had been driven almost entirely to extinction, the Emperor unleashing his Custodes of the Warders of Rython to aid Nocterra in finishing their kind. Only when they were defeated did Nocterra finally bend the knee to the Emperor, Solaris having already done so upon the Emperor’s arrival, reforming the XIXth Legion into the Celestial Host. It was there, upon bended knee, that the Emperor told Nocterra of the extent of such horrors from humanities dark history, that the Night Wraiths were far from the only, or even the worst, of their kind. Without hesitation, Nocterra vowed that she would hunt down any such creatures that dwelt in the galaxy, within the realm of mankind or beyond, pledging her life and the lives of her chosen Angelis Noctem to the task, to forever emulate the Warders of Rython in their unending duty.

Psychic Disciplines of the Angelis Noctem
To many, the Angelis Noctem are the lesser psykers of the XIXth Legion, still greater than any other single legion in their prowess, but lesser in every way than the Supernal Seraphs. This is not the case, even in the slightest.

The Angelis Noctem do not practice wanton experimentation with their powers, Nocterra implementing her own training regimen for her warriors, one far more stringent than the Librarius led by Anbaqil and Alexios Justario. Nocterra ignored the project outright rather than publicly decry it as Solaris did, though the result was largely the same. With both of the most powerful psychic Primarch’s ignoring the initiative to standardise psykers amongst the legions, it became a symbol that others soon followed, legions abandoning the ‘failed’ Librarius.

The Angelis Noctem do not utilise Dybbuk as the Supernal Seraphs do or the Pre-Primarch XIXth once did, Nocterra banning the usage of such warp-spawned familiars the moment she became aware of them, her warriors broaching no complaint. Fears of becoming combat inefficient were banished with the arrival of not one but two Primarch’s, and at a stroke, the scourge of the Ossification was lessened, but it was still ever present for warriors who allowed their powers to roam without thought, more needed to quiet it forever.

The Wraith Mantle, now common across the legion, took the form of a hooded cowl or cloak, woven from a psycho-reactive cloth developed by Nocterra herself, the Dark Lady no smith to match the likes of Zahviay Du Morafalle or Haqis’rahk, but easily the most proficient arcanosmith within the Imperium. These Wraith Mantles acted in a similar manner to the Psychic Hoods, though to a more refined degree, aiding in both amplifying the wearer’s power but also in controlling such power, aiding the users concentration so they do not lose control of their great powers, inviting the Ossification back in.

When combined with the rigorous training she subjected them to, the Wraith Mantle saw the final end of the Ossification, no recorded cases taking place after M30.944, the last warrior of the legion to suffer with the condition, Legion Master Sostratos, being granted the final peace of a warrior. As such, it soon became commonplace to see warriors of the Angelis Noctem clad in robes of darkest black, even the non-psykers of the legion often taking to wearing normal robes in solidarity with the past.

All of this supreme control has allowed the Angelis Noctem to hone their powers, often to a far greater degree than the Supernal Seraphs, into far fewer disciplines of the psychic arts, their warriors the smaller repertoire that can perfectly match their combat abilities, rather than matching their abilities to their powers, as the legion branch was fond of stating; Astartes first, psykers second.

As such, while they superficially used some of the same disciplines as the Supernal Seraphs did, those powers they did utilise were far more developed, the greater control affording them what mere additional power did not. Where the Supernal Seraphs used Biomancy, the Angelis Noctem were skilled in the art known as Resonance, battering enemies with ethereal force, strengthening their own minds and bodies with the power of the Warp, or severing the connection of other psykers with but a thought, while others called down darkness as their Mistress did, specialising in Erebokinesis.

However, while these were all great in their own right, the truly powerful warriors of the Lunar Branch could manifest their powers in a new branch known as Phobikinesis, a far more sinister and invasive form of telepathy. Few sensations are more horrific for a victim than the insidious slither of the wielder's thoughts as they writhe through the gaps in his mental defences, flaying and twisting his psyche at will, twisting the mind to conjure the targets deepest fears and make them manifest.

As befits their personality, the psychic manifestations of the Angelis Noctem are far less flashy than those of the Supernal Seraphs, but they are undeniably potent, the Legion of the Night in total command of themselves, body and mind, in a way few others in the galaxy have ever mastered, striking for the most vulnerable part of any warrior, their own mind.

Legion Geneseed
The XIXth Legion has ever had a strange relationship with geneseed, both Primarch’s creating entirely different geneseeds, further entrenching the divide between the two halves of the Celestial Host, the Supernal Seraphs and the Angelis Noctem.

That produced by Nocterra for her Angelis Noctem is unstable in the extreme, few being able to contain its power. Once implanted however, the changes are extreme. Eyes lose their definition as pupils widen, taking on purpled, midnight blues and darkest void. By the time they have ascended to the ranks of the legion, they are no longer eyes, but entire galaxies, the night sky held in the eye of the legion of night.

Skin and hair are likewise changed by the experience, hair turning a bone white, while skin partially discolours and tints into hues never seen on the human body, purple being prevalent, though blues and blacks are also documented. To be part of the Angelis Noctem is to forever be a creature at one with the night, extensive training turning them from mere space marines into utterly fearless warriors, their small numbers forcing them to expand their training, each warrior a veteran by the rankings of other legions.

Notable Angelis Noctem
Nocterra

The Primarch of the Angelis Noctem, and sole daughter in a pantheon of sons, Nocterra is an enigmatic figure, prefering the company of her own legion than interacting with those outside it. this effectivly sidelined her in many eyes, ensuring she had few true friends she could call on like some of her brothers, but also that she was an unknown factor, something that played to her strengths during the Great Secession. Deadly with her twin sickle blades, Nocterra fights with a speed and ferocity that few can match, mercilessly cutting down any who stand in her way. High Sentinel Talaos/High Sentinel EremilleHigh Sentinel Eremille was the first warrior of Noxim raised to the Angelis Noxim, though in such a time she was not known to the galaxy as Eremille, instead a man known as Talaos. The most powerful warrior of the Angelis Noctem, a psychic match for the Arch Warlock of the Supernal Seraphs, founder of the Lunar Guard and eventually the Legion Master of the Angelis Noctem after the death of the previous legion master, Eremille quickly became a legend not just amongst the XIXth Legion, but across the entire Imperium, her name spoken across mankind's empire.

A native of Noxim, Talaos was the youngest warrior to ever willingly step back into the darkness after the Lightbringer emerged, a vision drawing him from the safety of the known into the abject terror of the unknown. As he walked, a short sword held in both hands, eyes began to watch him, vicious beasts preparing to pounce, but staying their hand as an Alpha Predator approached, a name of terror across the world to those few who knew it, and an object of terror even to those who did not; a Night Wraith, a creature made by the maddened geniuses of Old Night, an anathema to all life on Noxim.

Without warning, the Night Wraith attacked, knocking the young boy to the floor, his sword skittering away from him, the beast standing over him, a spiked proboscis extending towards his forehead, poised to drain him of his dreams and trap him within a permanent slumber. Mortal weapons were useless against such a foe, unable to pierce the hides of the creatures, and for most, this would have been the end, but Talaos was no mere boy, unknowingly a master at the rare psychic discipline known only as “Terrorsight”.

Acting on instinct, Talaos’s perception on time slowed to a crawl, his arm phasing into the warp itself, becoming intangible and slipping inside the Night Wraith before re-solidifying, a blade of pure darkness materialising Asia it did, gutting the creature from the inside out. As the Night Wraith died, another Alpha Predator descended; Nocterra, Mistress of the Night. She had watched the boy kill what no other had, save her, and immediately took him beneath her wing. Over the next few years, the bond between the pair grew to be unbreakable, far greater than that between Nocterra and Solaris, and when the Emperor finally arrived, Talaos was raised to the legion immediately, the Lunar Guard forming around the charismatic and deadly warrior.

The Lunar Guard, and indeed the elite of the Angelis Noctem, were forever changed by Talaos, the warrior implementing the tradition of changing his appearance to mirror that of his Primarch, finally throwing off the veneer of the man he had been, standing anew as the woman he now became, something that had gnawed within him ever since his first vision of Nocterra. Talaos was no more, Eremille standing in his place. When High Sentinel Sostratos finally sucumbed to the Ossification that had been clawing at him decades before Nocterra's reunification, it was Eremille who ended his life, granting him mercy, before ascending to follow in his footsteps as the new High Sentinel. Blindmistress Nicopolis

The warrior known as Nicopolis, though none remember his name before he joined the legion, is one of some renown within the Angelis Noctem, recruited from the Asteroid Belt lies between Mars and Jupiter long before the coming of Nocterra, rising to the rank of sergeant in record time, though never seeking to move further, always declining new promotions, even as Captaincy was offered to him. Instead, Nicopolis opted to remain with his squad, even as constant war and the Ossification took his original comrades from him. By the time the legion reached Noxim, Nicopolis’s squad had been wiped out and reconsecrated a dozen times over, the sergeant always surviving the worst the galaxy could though at him, his warriors following without hesitation even as the nature of the Pre-Primarch XIXth saw them fall well in advance of him.

When he knelt before Nocterra, the Primarch recognised the providence of this warrior, offering him a higher position within the legion as so many had before her. Few Astartes would refuse any primarch, let alone their own, and yet as always, Nicopolis shook his head, Nocterra reportedly smiling as she made her decree. Nicopolis would never hold rank within the legion beyond that of Sergeant; Strikemasters as the Angelis Noctem referred to them, but nor would he be bound to a single squad at a time. Instead, Nicopolis would be a wanderer within the legion, taking command of individual squads as he saw fit on the eve of battle.

Jumping at this opportunity, Nicopolis leapt into his new role with fervour, his innate psychic power that few had paid much attention to in the years prior, it being nothing out of the ordinary in the psychically charged XIXth, erupting anew, powers of prophecy and prescience flowing from him, allowing him to always seem to pick the perfect squad to stride into battle with, turning the tide of hundreds of battles due to his presence.

However, it was not until the Black Star Rift that his true powers came to be, having found himself in command of a powerful cadre of newly equipped Nullifactors, forgoing the typical terminator plate to retain artificer armour and the mobility of flight. As the Black Star Rift drew to a close, Nocterra recognised the skill of Nicopolis and his warriors, finally giving her son no choice but to accept a higher position within the Angelis Noctem.

Nicopolis was named Blindmistress, lord of the new Blinded Ones, her position forever enshrined as it took the place on the Sentinel Council, the governing body of the Angelis Noctem. As with all the Blinded Sons, Nicopolis soon adopted the guise of a female, her warriors standing firm alongside the worst that the galaxy had to thrown at them

Sentinel Nullifactor Leonid

Sentinel Leonid was one of ten to hold his rank and serve on the ruling council of the Angelis Noctem, and while this made him one of the mightiest warriors of the Lunar Branch, it was not until many years later that his name would become linked with a far more potent weapon; that of the Nullifactor.

First appearing mere years before the Black Star Rift, the Nullifactor Project was Leonid’s personal pride and joy, Nocterra aiding him in the finer details of copying her own intricate tattoos, layering them between layered Terminator Armour, providing protection from the warp and those who wielded it, supplementing the powers of the first Nullifactors.

Despite his position however, Leonid initially saw few volunteer for his new unit, terminator armour unpopular within the Angelis Noctem, a factor not helped when Nicopolis created his own variation of the Nullifactor project, refining Leonid’s work to allow its use on Artificer armour, lightening the load and allowing for jump pack usage.

Regardless of the numbers, Leonid and his warriors proved themselves invaluable during the Black Star Rift, his Nullifactors becoming famous in short order, and soon, their likes found within nearly every legion to wield against the Psykers of the Rangdan, even as the Angelis Noctem themselves saw the growth of the rival Blinded Ones over the heavy Nullifactor units.

Legion Master Sostratos - Deceased M30.947

The fourth warrior to hold the position of Legion Master and the predecessor to Eremille, Sostratos was the commander present both at the Triumph of Lerwick where the XIXth earnt their first name as Pre-Primarch XIXth, and also when the legion first travelled to Noxim, kneeling before Nocterra as she named the veterans of the Pre-Primarch XIXth as her new Angelis Noctem.

A commander of some reknown, Sostratos was many things, but he was no legend like the masters of the other legions, no tactician to match Praetor-Militant Arvem Medius of the Imperial Wardens or weapons master to compete with Captain Rurik of the Hunters Eternal. However, he was a balanced warrior, holding all things in moderation within him, making him the perfect commander for a legion still searching for its true master, or mistress as fate would have it.

Sostratos was lucky in many ways, being stricken with the Ossification, a death sentence within the XIXth Legion but surviving long enough to see his Primarch found and his legion made truly whole. Even with Nocterra’s powers however, Sostratos could not escape the curse of his own flesh, and when the time came, his bone prison finally encasing him, Nocterra read nothing but peace within his mind as Eremille gave him his final rest.

Forge Master Buer

Forge Master Buer is one of the rare veteran breeds of the XIXth, serving the legion long before becoming an Angelis Noctem, avoiding the Ossification that claimed so many of his brothers in the dark years before Nocterra, though in truth this may have been through the liberal use of cybernetic replacements. Trained on Mars, Buer was a logical being amongst a legion who all too often thought with emotion, emotions being allowed to empower the commonplace psychic abilities of his brothers that he himself lacked.

Nonetheless, Buer proved himself a master of technology, and soon served as the Legions Forge Master, maintaining the fleet of vehicles and armoury that allowed the legion to wage war. Interestingly however, it was his relationships that would truly make him stand out amongst the XIXth, being one of the few warriors to not only tolerate the opposing branch, but indeed maintain a friend within it, firm friends with Executor-Praevian Basiliscus Xaphan. Indeed, it was Buer who first found Basiliscus and brought him to the Supernal Seraphs for recruitment, an action he came to view as his greatest failing in the wake of the Black Star Rift, viewing Basiliscus’s death as his responsibility alone, never knowing that the warrior once knew as a friend had not perished, but instead suffered a far worse and more insidious fate.

Imagifier Eligor

Eligor is another Veteran of Terra, and was hailed as a great swordsman in the times long before Nocterra and Solaris were found. Indeed, it was this skill that saw her serve as the legions champion in ages past, calling out and vanquishing a thousand thousand foes across the Great Crusade, her intimate knowledge of biomancy boosting her strength and speed beyond what most could compete with.

All of this changed however with the coming of Nocterra and more importantly to Eligor’s position, the unbridled skill of Talaos and later Eremille, far eclipsing his own despite the new warriors lack of experience gleaned throughout the Great Crusade. Regardless, his skill was recognised, Eligor being placed within the ranks of the Lunar Guard, her visage changing as was tradition, as Nocterra recognised her skill, naming her not as champion, but as Imagifer, bearer of Nocterra’s own heraldry.

Despite no longer being heralded as the undisputed champion of the XIXth legion, Eligor did not lose any of her prestigious skill. With Nocterra’s banner mounted upon her back, she continued to stride into battle, her mighty two handed greatsword claiming the lives of any who would attempt to lay her low, recovered by Eligor in the earliest days of the great crusade from an ancient tomb of a long dead xenos race.

Unbeknownst to all however, even Eligor and Nocterra herself, the blade, known as Light's Bane, holds a dark secret. Crafted from alien chronophagic alloys, the sword is able to steal time itself, every life cut short by the blade transfering the natural lifespan of its victim to the wielder's own. While Astartes are functionally ageless, it is likely this feature that staved off the Ossification for Eligor, allowing her to continue serving the Imperium, never knowing the truth behind her weapons true power.

Dark Moon Anael

Every Legion has its oddities, the Hunters have Kanarek, the Lions have Anase, and the Angels Nocturn have Anael. Despite their reclusive nature Nocterra knew that occasionally she would need a representative to talk in her stead to her siblings or other important figureheads. This was not a tactical choice she made often, but it was in place in case the need arose.

From the daughters and the sons of the Nineteenth one arose in particular to fill the role of both Equerry and Emissary, Anael. She stood out from the rest of the Legion in that she was an extrovert in a sea of introverts. She maintained the same discipline as the rest of her siblings, but she still held a personable and friendly aura that made it easier to talk to her versus someone else of her Legion.

In the days before the Imperium, Anael’s mother, a woman by the name of Asjven, sought out the dark lady of the night, seeing the vision of Nocterra as all others who had joined the Dark Lady had done. For years, Asjven fought alongside the likes of Talaos, becoming pregnant with Anael. For a time, it was believed she would raise her child, but fate is rarely so kind, one of the dreaded Night Wraith’s striking her down before she could carry to term.

Only by Nocterra’s own intervention was Anael saved, the Primarch taking the young boy as her own, raising him as a mother would a son. When the Imperium arrived on Noxim, it was little surprise that he was raised to the ranks of the Angelis Noctem, nor was it a surprise that he followed Talaos’s lead, shifting his form in tribute to his mother, serving as her equerry from that day until her final day.

Like many of her siblings she is a psyker of incredible power. Her ability to shift her appearance is used heavily while acting as an equerry for the Nineteenth. Shifting little details about her appearance to make her appear more trustworthy or dangerous as the need arises during compliances. Often appearing with features of a person that the person she was talking to trusted.

Few understand the meaning behind Anael’s title, the ‘Dark Moon’ of the Angelis Noctem. Indeed, even those within the Angelis Noctem know it’s true provenance, only Nocterra, Eremille and Anael herself knowing the truth. Dark Moon was Anael’s title as a child, a term of endearment from the Primarch of the Angelis Noctem. In time, it’s origin became less important, what it came to represent being key. Anael stands now as a glimpse into the innermost mind of Nocterra, compassion, humour, openness, all things that Nocterra herself would never show in front of another being, but clearly once displayed in abundance.

Notable Vessels

 * Blade of Salvation - Unknown vessel class - Pre-Imperium

Legion Relics

 * Ulumeathi Plasma Syphon - The Angelis Noctem are known to possess many near unique pieces of wargear within the armouries they have recovered during their time combatting the forces of old night. Most of these are locked away, never to see use, but some do get withdrawn in times of great peril, the Ulumeathi Plasma Syphon being one such device. A handful of these relics were found in a campaign on the Eastern Fringes of the galaxy during the Rangdan War, taking the form of a simple chain, its appearance hiding a rare form of defensive technology that can destabilise all known form of plasmatic energy. Each Ulumeathi Plasma Syphon consists of an array of alien power crystals that generate a distorting resonance on the frequencies of energy used by most Plasma Weapons, the resonance waves causing plasma weapons within the short range of the Plasma Syphon to fire much more wildly, making them all but impossible to aim and keep on target, or make them lose their energy more rapidly so that their shots dissipate harmlessly in the air.

Legion Colours
The Angelis Noctem maintain some links to the old colours of the XIXth before Nocterra, the dark, midnight blue of the old legions shoulder pads being expanded upon, swapped to cover the entirety of the body, arms, legs and head of the armour, while the dull gun-metal that had once been in the majority was instead relegated to the shoulders of the armour, swirling patterns sometimes worked into the metal, though this was often done as a matter of personal taste. Often, robe-like Wraith mantles were worn over the top of such armour, cast in a void black, and alongside the purple of the eye lenses of the legion, served to honour the night sky itself, perfect for the warriors of the Dark lady.

In this way, the legion distinguished itself from the old XIXth while maintaining some links to it, an important step in dismissing any rift between the old and the new, such emnity instead directed at their solar kin.

Legion Badge
Officially, the Angelis Noctem shared the same heraldry as the Supernal Seraphs; that of the combined Celetial Host. However, when battle standards were raised, it was never this combined symbol that was showcased, instead showing the lunar side of the symbol; the rising moon, pointing into the eclipse of the great Host.

In the wake of the Black Star Rift however, this symbol was changed, albiet slightly. The central eclipse was banished, never to return, and instead the orb of the moon took its place, the cresent on the bottom now forever rising alongside the moon eternal, the nocturnal legion's new symbol taken with the warriors of the XIXth wherever they went.