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"A time of darkness has come, a time that will envelop us, as brothers, in shadow and crimson. Zach, set pace for the Eye of Terror!" - Vrygan, The Specter, Scarlet Apostle.

+ 'Of Mettle and Fury' +

It was at the start of the end, hence for the name; "The Age of Ending", where an operating splinter of Templars were cast into an unforgiving shadow. Survival wasn't due to their advanced and hardened skills in combat nor had it anything to do with tactical superiority or faith in the god emperor, it was but their stout hearts that drummed underneath the scarred and tempered admantium that barred their chests. It isn't often where a Templar bites their own cry or a proud astartes for that matter, "No pity, No remorse and No fear", but of the 12 that survived, each learned the exact values of the words they spat so casually before charging relentlessly into battle. The horrors that scarred them so deeply, both physically and mentally had opened up a new perspective in their otherwise rather, closed and brainwashed mindset, painted with doctrines and prayers and how the God Emperor alone, would be the savior of humanity. This thinking would be considered as a wretched act of treachery and betrayal to the Imperium of man, but this, to them, was reality, not one force was going to be able to overcome and smite with efficiency the malevolence and anarchy that was chaos for in the end, the inevitable truth was that all, regardless of will and faith, you will fall from grace and only then, shall the prudent minds of the chauvinists be faced with reality. But the 12 Astartes didn't turn to the flags of the lords of chaos, for the time spent in the deepest depths of hell, they have but grown in logic and knowledge, they knew well enough that the Imperium was but a community of weak minds influenced by that of a quasi, if not literal, dictatorship. But chaos, well, it was chaos, it was a senseless array of nonsense and illogical acts of filth and brutality, it was tasteless despite the power it promised that came along with 'gifts' of corruption, it was pathetic and in ways, similar to the Imperium. Upon their return, they were to be known as The Scarlet Apostles, and each individual, a

The 12, Chief Apostles;

Leon Vrygan; The Wise, A Marshal whilst in the service of Templars.

Arketh Marshall; The Venerated, An Emperor's Champion whilst in the service of Templars.

Dax Phylex; The Sly, A veteran sword brethren whilst in the service of Templars.

Tryf Rejikus; The Beacon, A well known scout initiate and then, sword brethren of the Templars.

Vantz Metelmann; The Wall, A veteran sword brethren whilst in the service of Templars.

Pierro Bavariett; The Tactician, A Castellan and brilliant strategist whilst in service of Templars.

Hans G'eft; The Benevolent, A fearsome sword brethren notable for his feats of courage.

Reese Lyons; The Blade, A veteran sword brethren whilst in service of Templars.

Mark Tiefton; The Loyal, A great chaplain and dedicated warrior whilst in service of Templars.

Estabaan Rizon; The Fixer, A hardened apothecary whilst in service of Templars.

Cryx Van Lierde; The Flayer, A sword brethren noted for his dual blades of Karthox.

Kenji Vehemort; The Humble, A sword brethren of great skill in the use of pistols.

The Beginning of the End

30 years have past after the dozen of Templars disappeared during the Assault of Persephone Primus, deemed Missing In Action and the search for them, long forfeited. But during the 3 decades, the warriors which were lost, found themselves pit against beasts of vile origin and vulgar nature in a gladiator setting somewhere in the midst of the Eye of Terror. They were indeed missing in action, abducted by a flood of greater daemons for private pleasure during the massive confusion where the marines lost their offensive impetus to a clumsily coordinated salvo of orbital fire. Being the hardened warriors they were, a champion of the emperor and a marshal within their ranks, they weren't set to give up and despite the notable physical changes that struck their bodies, their temple and testament of greatness to the god emperor, their conviction and stubborn fortitude kept their sanity chained. They were disciplined men and when they weren't forced onto the field for exhibition and humiliation, they recited benedictions of purity despite their physical segregation and maintained a mind of clarity and clear motive. They were to escape and in that attempt, they will bring down what forces of chaos they could and return to the light of their Emperor as the triumphant astartes they once were, in their polished armor with marks of purity fluttering in chorus with the wind. But all that seemed far fetched when the rancid air they breathed reeked of fecal matter and other repulsive properties. Despite the fact that everything the planet flaunted was out to murder anything that retained some sort of sanity, the eye of terror for that matter, they knew in their minds, they were going to succeed whether they themselves liked it or not and thus began their efforts as one, as marines, as men.

The pit leader on the planet of Shaiezen, aligned to the blood stained god of Khorne was Bazzariel, a horrendous creature that resembled a Baphomet from the ancient texts of Solomon, he was a soon to be daemon prince. Lathered with rich silks and chains, etched with blasphemous runes and sigils, his gait was firm and flaunted an air of superiority to those around him. Even the mightiest of warriors from the Imperium would get the sense that their existence was all but moribund in the presence of the beast. His pompous and ruthless grandeur earned the respect of many and the hatred of more, his tempered blade blessed by the arcanic flames of Khorne have seared the flesh of thousands and tasted the scarlet vitae of planets, trickling down the coal black metal like endless rivers of hopelessness. His existence was perverse and he took an unfortunate liking to Leon, the proud marshal of the Black Templars. He often called his honor guard to strap a collar unto the man who's pride like most marines, were hard to swallow, dragging him out to watch him duel against a monstrous being with often, nothing but his skin and fists. He was indeed, in all respects, an asshole who knew no ends.

The marines could only take so much of the endless abasement and so during their 29th year, 11 months and 27th day, when they gathered during mealtime, dining on the left overs from the gluttonous shits that played on their lives, Pierro, the genius tactician unveiled an escape plan he had developed for the nearing 3 decades they spent here in the hollowed planet of Shaiezen which made effective and major use of the derelict Caestus Assault Ram that rested in the northern ruins and a crucial enemy of logic, chance. Their only prospect of success was the fury and angst in their burning hearts and their determination to get back at these barbaric beings, this fueled the momentum and the impetus of the operation, later known as,
The Burning Scarlet.

The rage in every one of them were caused by the lost of faith in the emperor, the physical corruption that had been dealt by the insanity that latched onto every damn planet within the eye of terror and practical denial. To return into the familiar arms of humanity, they gave a little of their own to an archaic prospect in return for a massive boost in power, yes, it was a full on spit at the beliefs of the Imperium but the desperation at that point had them too obsessed with returning to care. Each one of them had bloodshot eyes, their veins, strained and their voices, each one like an assembly, a chorus of shadows coupled with an aura once of ardent, but now, twisted and warped with a unique brand of 'justice'. They do look like heretics, like they've given up the light of humanity to lick the toes of the gods of chaos, but despite their corrupted exterior, their hearts remain true, only absent of faith in anyone except for their brethren. Finally, the archaic prospect as a bonus gift to bolster their offensive abilities and an indirect pun to their original identities, it dropped 12 sets of Pre-Heresy, Terminator Grade power armor with sentient hosts instilled in the plating. The armor had mouths and eyes, and a conscience of it's own, this at first, only scored the disgust and a sequence of muttered profanities from the men but like said, their desperation at this point ended up having them don the armor and secure a covenant that promised power in return of a symbiotic relationship between it's host and the armor. It was practically every chaos space marine's dream, to be possessed and gain an entry to a pool of archaic energy but to commit foul and false deeds. It would later be learned that the marines had learned to control and 'own' the pieces of armor with proper and dictating authority, hence the absence of further corruption and the later branding of themselves as 'paladins' of sorts.

They carried out the operation in a relatively swift manner, a list of purifying and morale boosting benedictions ringing between their vox's as their bullets wrapped in plasma found their resting in the mutated flesh of the abominations that resided on the planet. Scum, heretics, xenos were but a few terms that refer to the bags of shit with the undeserving gift of conscience and free will, they squeezed and held their finger on the trigger without rest as they slowly purged and in their own names, purified the foul planet writhing in what seemed like unending chaos. This little act of rebellion and disobedience quickly caught the eye of the pit leader, sparking a glint of interest in his glowing orbs of red that monitored every movement of his planet, he played game master and proceeded to send waves of beasts to step on their on advance whilst he dined on the succulent flesh of fair maidens and the blood of true men. It was then, with the lost of long worn patience, where Rejikus let out a blast of 'unknown' energy, forcing every minion of chaos to fall on their knees and heed his call for then, his word was order. Whether every one of those twelve marines had an unique power like the one Rejikus had was unknown at that point, but the revolt and reverse in command of his minions angered Bazzariel, forcing him out of his throne and onto the field that was stained in the blood of thousands. His presence was mighty as every step he made, his hooves would cause the earth to tremble, the feral snarls and shouts of fury that rolled of his pierced lips echoed from lands afar, his every advance forward had the marines take a regretted step back, of instinct of course. Albeit the monstrosity that made its way closer with every unforgiving step, Leon had been waiting for the chance to strike the beast down, one on one and teach it a lesson that when worthless pieces of shit such as Bazzariel fucked with a man of the imperium, nothing good was going to come out of it. In a sudden burst of light, whether this was an effect of the powers granted to them by the prospect or not, he teleported unto the shoulder of the baphomet, jamming a blade wrapped in an ethereal flame into it's throat before appearing underneath his legs, slicing at his heels before delivering the finishing blow, powered with an emotion so strong, it manifested in an eerie glow of red, which sent the daemon flying off with a sonic boom before the entrance of silence. Strangely enough, the victory was unusually fast and simple, but none of them spoke of it and took it as a blessing before the ex chaplain, Tiefton awoke the Machine Spirit that slumbered within the metal casing of the Caestus Assault Craft. Their departure was swift and bore fruit in the form of trophies and prized artifacts of humanity that were lost several millenia ago in great conflicts between good and evil. Regardless, their escape wasn't complete, they had to navigate the vicious and fatal rifts of both time and reality that made up the Eye of Terror, how such a feeble ship such as an assault ram managed to stay intact through all this was but up to speculation, but the ship would prevail and later be named as "Aiza" in honor of their fallen brother, the 13th who fell to a horde of blood letters in the beginning of the operation. Silence was a virtue they all cherished while they played their chances in escaping the Eye of Terror, lost in the warp for a month after departing, they made a sudden appearance outside the Mercenary planet of Faryn, 10 clicks south-east of the EoT.

30 years exactly, to the second, they made their entrance back into humanity to carve their presence into the very soul of the universe, the ghosts of humanity, the revenants, the Scarlet Apostles.


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Discussion Starter · #2 · (Edited)
“My brothers, before we descend with almighty fury whilst our righteous blades beckon justice, we shall realize and cherish the scarlet vitae that rushes through our very soul, for blood is the gold of blessings” – Mark Tiefton, Apostle Chaplain.​

+++'The Signature of Blood'+++

As an assembly of footsteps echoed through the dimly lit, metal hallway, with it’s lights occasionally fluttering, a brotherhood of 12, hooded in an amber satin with their hulking bodies cloaked and shrouded by a cabalistic semblance; they strode down in silence making their way to the vacant landing bay. The dock, for some unknown reason was relatively quiet, the only exception being the mechanical buzzing from the army of servo skulls hovering round making their routine system checks on the ships where their owners paid for the useless service. Leon, a tall figure who stood proud underneath the amber cloth studied the immediate surroundings with a stoic expression, but his eyes were sharp, retaining the archaic glint which symbolized the pact they made with the prospect but a month ago which as of now, seemed like an eon. “Brothers,” he’d pause to moisten his lips, his tone rather dull with the hoarse-ish voice that most smokers seem to have, he’d gesture to the gates that led to the ‘immigration/registration’ hall, “Let us be efficient with what time we have, we must bolster our numbers if we are to spread the word of truth and to rouse the blind” as he finished the telling sentence, he himself would make a few steps toward the gate which was guarded by two lazy looking guardsmen. “Aye Leon, come on Mark and the rest of you, we must find potential on this world” Arketh would smirk, finding the matter somewhat laughable considering the only thing stocked on this waning planet were bounty-hunters and mercenaries alike, pathetic excuses for living beings in the perspective of these proud marines. The 12 imposing figures approached the entrance in an organized and tightly packed formation with Leon at the tip, casting a dismissive glare at the two guardsmen who seemed to be chatting away with a nonchalant grandeur, like they’ve got the rest of their lives sorted and whatever the fuck not. “halt!” the gruffy looking guardsmen, that resembled ‘Shaggy’, who stood on the left of the entrance would cry out suddenly with a palm pushed forward, very obviously affected by the imposing presence of the hooded astartes, trembling a little as a physical response. Hans G’eft, the more impatient of the dozen would step out with a grunt, muttering an indistinct series of profanities before grabbing the collar of the man and in an insolent manner, “Shut the fuck up ya worthless mag-“ He was interrupted mid-sentence by a firm hand that secured his shoulder by Leon, “Don’t waste your time” he’d choose to stifle a very selective chuckle whilst he eyed both the men with a scrutinizing gaze, causing them to shake in fear and nod slowly in response. “Pathetic” Reese would comment, his words edged with a unique brand of venom as his golden lock of hair danced elegantly in the brazen air as he strode past the two cowering figures, still trembling in confusion and dread.

The immigration room was a dull place to say the least, it wasn’t much different compared to the landing bay only that the room was lit in a white light as opposed to the orange on the docks. There was a frantic tapping of keys and a routine ‘beep’ that seemed to emanate from one of the machines placed next to a metal gate that led to the inner core of the city. The guardsmen and naval officers that were walking around, conversing and stamping papers looked pretty slack, most of them looked like feeble excuses to be called men, their uniforms were untidy, most had stains and these were only some of the notable, physical discrepancies. As they made their way into the room with only one right turn, their presence would catch the eye of the entire room, having one of the on-duty officers drop a cup of coffee with his jaws locked in what can be best described as shock. They looked to the 12 like they were the bête noire of humanity and in some respects, that might have been right but as for now, none of them harbored emotions strong enough that it would propel them to commit acts of unspeakable heresy. “uh-h-uh, welcome to the planet of Faryn, w-we- n-ee-ed to see some valid –i-identifica-ation p-lease.. sir” a female immigration officer would clumsily request the immigration forms required for entry, she stuttered in awe, taking her time to collect herself in the presence of ‘Space Marines’, the warriors of humanity, the pinnacle of all men, below to that of only the primarchs and emperor alone, their presence truly, to her at least, was an inspiring one. She would stumble her way around the counters, taking a brave step that would impede upon the path of Leon and the rest with curious eyes that reflected both reverence and fear, “o-or we c-o-ould off-er you a temp-“ interrupted once again by Leon, who seemed like he had a habit for doing so, with a subtle smile of reassurance for her safety and in a much softer tone, “Ease yourself maiden, as Astartes” he’d stop for effect and to clarify their ‘assumed’ identity before continuing, “We require no identification permits for inter-planet entry, it would be much appreciated if you could just, kindly” emphasizing the only vowel with a more solemn tone, “Let us pass” offering a court nod of acknowledgement as his brethren simply made their way across, ignoring the request for identification completely and without a second glance, Leon himself was already out the gate, leaving Eleanor, the woman speechless as well as the rest of the room.

The streets of Faryn’s district II were noisy and busy as usual, flocked with people, criminals, pick pockets, half assed bounty hunters that chewed on the tips of cheap cigars and gangs, sects of uniformed gangsters and mercenaries. The 12 men looked increasingly out-of-place, scoring the peculiar eyes of the locals and the occasional, disapproving shake of the head like they were up to no good. The road was dominated by trucks and heavily modified war-jeeps that had an average of 10 people above capacity armed to the bone with 3rd rate weapons and a crappy set of teeth. “what the fuck” Estabaan would throw his armored hands up in utter disgust, revealing a corrupted section of his self-thinking armor before dropping them, sighing and unaware that the group was being watched by multiple liaisons and covert informants for different PMC’s that operated within these areas. For a moment there, Leon was lost as to what he was actually doing on this planet with filth being prominent of it’s inhabitants, recalling that they were actually just randomly warped in to Sector Space after successfully making it out the Eye of Terror. With no idea what segmentum they were in, he took a second or two to calculate his options and what he could do to make good use of his time here with his apostles, concluding with two courses of actions, to cause a massive, planetary riot to catch the attention of the Imperium or recruit what they could from the world and proceed to train their own marines. Both were tempting, but he ended up choosing the more spontaneous of the two, swiftly pulling out a modified bolter, firing several control bursts into the air before commanding the sudden silence that followed. Conjuring up his loudest of voices, he bellowed for all to hear, “HEED MY CALL HEDONS, FOR I AM ABOUT TO TEACH YOU ALL A LESSON”

Fluff - Facts that pertain to the 12 original apostles (subject to modification/or update):

- The sentient armor that was provided by the Archaic Prospect, ‘Zenith’ can morph at will, with both Terminator and Mark 3 armor options available. Mark 3 due to the fact that the prospect attained the armor during the Great Crusade.

- The armor is later tamed by the greater will and fortitude the 12 share and the physically corrupt properties of the armor would later recede, disappearing completely leaving only a polished metal in the future.

- The 12 Apostles, after the escape from the warp not only gained strong psyker-like abilities, but commanded numerous enhanced physical abilities such as speed, strength and agility to name a few. Most prominently featured within their stories would be their psychic connection to one another.

- Their ranks before their abduction have subsequently been removed and now, they see themselves as equals.

- Are usually seen hooded in an amber satin, the cloth being a physical manifestation of their apostlehood to the archaic prospect known as ‘Zenith’.

- The 13th member, Aiza Fervitz would later return from the warp as an enemy of the Imperium and the leader of an army of mutants, the event would be known as “The Plagued Campaign” to the Imperium of Man

- None of them, the chapter for that matter held the Emperor in their hearts, only the need to spread the ‘Truth’

- The Truth is the rationale that every Scarlet Apostle, Revenant follows, it is the belief that everything will succumb to chaos and not one being can counter it, hence the need to make a difference whilst one’s heart still beats.

- The Black Templars would completely be ignorant of the identities of the 12 when their officers met as official chapters.

Fluff – Facts that pertain to the entire chapter, The Scarlet Apostles (subject to modification/or update):

- The Scarlet Apostles attained chapterhood in what is recorded/believed to be of the 25th founding

- The acceptance of their request of chapterhood was out of desperation and need to bolster the decreasing ranks of the Astartes.

- The Inquisition never came to suspicion of the identities and the ‘corruption nor the ‘motives of the Apostles due to their unaltered templar geneseed, how the Black Templars weren't informed or aware of this is up to speculation (will write about it in the future).

- The chapter follows a non codex organization index, whilst most chapters follow a thousand man roster, at it’s peak, the Scarlet Apostles only had 500 in service, excluding the 12 apostles.

- The chapter heavily utilizes hit-and-run tactics and is well versed in most strategies, the other prominent feature being offensive, structured siege warfare.

- Are often mistaken for the Legion of the Damned due to their daunting appearance and swift advances

- Their fortress monestary is an ancient battle barge named “Bane of Banes”

- Cannibalism is a sacred ritual undergone by all initiates and so is the drinking of blood, acts such as these are all carried out in a covert and secretive manner to avoid suspicion.

- The Black Templar mixed geneseed is later corrupted by the aforementioned habits, their bodies would later feature an ability where the marines gain a temporary boost in physical abilities after the drinking of human blood and human blood only.

- There is a particular chaos presence within the Chapter, their 1st company in particular, the Coven of Purification being the most prominent. The 13 veteran members fashion blood red ‘scarlet’ armor and a vast range of ruby encrust jewellery and severed human anatomy as trophies. They were reported to be sighted, chanting an invocation as a praise to Khorne before storming into the fields of battle with an eerie red aura that seemed to emanate from their presence.

- Despite the Khornic presence within the chapter, the marines despise chaos and only utilize Khorne at it’s most basic form, the obtainment of blood lust.

- All members of the chapter apart from the Apostles are referred to as Revenants; this is because they believe themselves to be newly reborn with an extra perspective than before.

- Would later go rogue.

+++'Chapter Organisation'+++​

“Equality is a virtue, but unfortunately, wisdom impedes the path to equality” – Pierro Bavarriet, Of the 12 Apostles

In order of authority;

The 12 apostles – comprises of the original 12

The First company/The Beacon – comprises of 50 Revenant marines veteran in all forms of combat, with archaic honors. The Coven of Purification (13 elites) 7 Venerated Dreadnaughts (relatively young in age) 10 rhinos, 1 chaplain, 2 apothecaries, 17 optimal Terminators. Every marine of The Beacon has attained Terminator privileges.

The Second company/The Flesh – comprises of 80 Revenant marines which favor assault packs and dual wielding chainswords. 10 Landspeeders, 5 Whirlwinds and 5 Vindicators. Every Marine of The Flesh have ornaments that depict 3 feathered wings and 6 fallen feathers, symbolizing the 36 maxims of The Scarlet Apostles.

The Third company/The Bone – comprises of 60 Revenant marines specialized in devastator tactics despite the chapter favor for hit and run tactics. 5 Land Raiders (fully optimized for all tactical options), 15 predators, 10 razorbacks and 10 Vindicators. The hilt of every chainsword wielded by a Revenant of The Bone is shaped in the form of a scimitar with a stanza from the Book of Truth etched unto the teeth of the blade.

The Fourth company/The Blood – Comprises of a ‘Scarlet Cohort’ (Equivalent to a Hundred despite it’s original definition). Each Revenant in this respect is specialized in all terrain tactics and deployment in all environments. Blood Drinking Is highly prominent within the ranks of The Blood.

The Null company/The Seers – The cohort of Revenants within the Seers are of the most trusted and hardened of warriors, only called out in times of dire and urgent need. They are in charge of scouting for planets of potential recruitment and are often seen cloaked in vanilla with 6 drops of blood tattooed somewhere on their face, most often seen on their left cheeks. Every Revenant of the The Seers have earned total rights over the armory.
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