Primarch’s Name: Nihlus
Homeworld: Kars
Background: Thinker
Psychic Potential: Good
Gene-seed: Stable
Talent: Technologist
Legio VIII: Iconoclasts
Colors: Plain Ceramite / Undecorated
Battle Cry: Into nothing! Burn!
Primarch History
The troubled history of the Eighth Primarch began when the savior pod carrying
him crashed upon a technologically advanced world of Kars. The planet was a
long-lost colony spawned by a forgotten expedition of the Martian Mechanicum
during the Age of Strife, and brought up in a twisted image of their home
world, a polluted, heavily industrialized wasteland where billions of slaves
toiled for their unfeeling, inhuman masters.
The Techno-Magi of Kars had lost almost all of their humanity, replacing their souls with the artificial intelligence chips as much as they replaced the flesh parts of their bodies with augmetics. For them, a single life meant less than zeroes and ones of a binary code, a scrap of metal that made up their titanic forges that kept on churning machinery too insane for the mind to comprehend. And yet, it was a single life that changed the planet.
Nihlus was found in the irradiated, polluted wastes outside of a hive city, clinging on to life where nothing should have been able to survive. The Techno-Magi had little curiosity for the matters of flesh and left the young Primarch to rot in their forges amongst the other unfortunate menials, condemned to a short, miserable life of harsh labor and endless toil.
Life in the slave pits was brutal and devoid of compassion or sympathy. The slaves fought one another for scraps of food or luxuries their masters have discarded, hoping that they might be selected by the tech-adepts to join the ranks of the elite. Nihlus’ natural strength, cunning and intelligence have quickly marked him as a leader, attracting the attention of the tech-adepts who had promoted him to a taskmaster, slave driver, and eventually an overseer. Here, the Primarch’s skill with engineering and technology became apparent, as he sought to artificially augment the slaves in his charge to deliver ever-higher quotas of raw materials and industrial production to the Techno-Magi in the spires of Kars.
It was not long before Nihlus’ pride outgrew his meager position in the Karsian society. Secretly, he began creating cybernetic augmentations for his slaves that could be turned into deadly and dangerous weapons, while swaying many of the downtrodden to his side either through promises of luxury and power, or, more frequently, by threats and intimidation.
Despite all of the Primarch’s preparations, he was not ready for a betrayal. One of his lieutenants, a disgraced former tech-adept sent to the slave-pits as punishment for past transgressions, informed the Karsian Techno-Magi of Nihlus’ plans. The Mechanicum retribution was swift and merciless. The heavily mechanized skitarii attacked before Nihlus could rally his warriors, destroying most of his host and capturing the Primarch.
The Techno-Magi had found that Nihlus was far outside of the normal human range of resilience to injury and stress, and subjected him to tortures so inhuman that even his genetically-enhanced body was grossly disfigured through countless burns, cuts and vile attempts at experimentation, all the while the Techno-Magi watched with satisfaction. More than one tech-adept quickly rose in prominence amongst his kin, attempting to rationalize the superhuman properties of Nihlus’ body, and the inexplicable levels of resistance to all damage and maladies exhibited by the Primarch.
Betrayed by the only society he had ever known, Nihlus fell deeper and deeper into despair, then into rage as his predicament got worse. Finally, just as he was at his lowest and most desperate, something changed within the young man. Betrayed, used and abandoned, Nihlus channeled his rage into a singular focus, tapping deep into his immense psychic potential to generate a blast of force that devastated cubic kilometers near his holding area and freed him while the surviving Techno-Magi mired about in confusion.
Alone, burned, disfigured and with no one to turn to, Nihlus survived on the outskirts of Karsian society, finding common cause with the nearly feral scavengers living in the dangerous, devastated wastes beyond the planet’s hive cities. Uniting the disparate clans, tribes and extended families, the Primarch waged a silent, brutal war against the Techno-Magi and their armies of cyborg skitarii, sabotaging their forges and defensive outposts while creating an ever-evolving array of deadlier and ever more dangerous weapons to arm himself and his warriors with.
Wherever Nihlus went, destruction followed. The years of tortures and betrayals have numbed him to the plight of the forge slaves, while his ambition and hatred of the Techno-Magi combined into a potent drive to see their kind exterminated. Dressed in rags covering most of his body to avoid presenting his horrifying visage to his followers, Nihlus became known as the Burned King, an avatar of destruction incarnate, only marginally less terrifying to his friends than to his foes. Soon, the closest clique of his followers began to ritually burn their flesh in imitation of their leader, adopting the name of the Infernals as their hit and run attacks began to take their toll on the Techno-Magi overlords.
After five years of war, both sides had committed atrocities on a massive scale, turning the conflict into a war of attrition. At first, the Techno-Magi controlled the industry of Kars, but Nihlus was impossible to capture, hidden by Kars’ unforgiving environment and living amongst those who adapted to life in the wastelands. The feral savages, augmented with the scavenged and heavily modified technology, struck time and again, always too few to hold ground yet capable of wrecking the enemy infrastructure faster than the tech-adepts could repair it.
As forges went dead one by one, the Techno-Magi resorted to using biological, chemical and nuclear weapons, attempting to exterminate all life on Kars outside the hives. Still, Nihlus and the host of the Infernals lived on, protected by the makeshift bunkers while those incapable of holding weapons perished outside. In a terrible week of wrath, Nihlus’ people were reduced to barely a fraction of their old number.
When Nihlus and the Infernals emerged from their underground havens, they found a very different world. The scavenger tribes were no longer a thriving society capable of destroying their enemies and making a new life on the ruins of old. Now, they were pathetic dregs of humanity, incapable of continuing the war of attrition.
The Primarch’s heart sunk as he witnessed the ruin of his world, the end of his labors. For the second time in his life, his work was undone. But this time, he had the means to strike back.
Nihlus threw himself into work, designing stranger and stranger machines, weapons and devices that were as dangerous to his followers as they were to his enemies. The secret hideaways churned out munitions, bombs and weaponry that could destroy cities and continents, even if such devastation came at the cost of leaving nothing to conquer. If Nihlus could not rule Kars, no one would.
Once again the forges went dark, but this time the attacks formed a single, determined pattern, destroying both military and civilian targets as if the Infernals no longer cared for conquest, only destruction. Once again the Techno-Magi released the weapons of mass destruction, only to find that the now mostly cybernetic Infernals were immune, surrendering the shreds of their humanity for the power to destroy their hated enemies. Nihlus cut a bloody path through everything the Techno-Magi sent against him, reprogramming battle servitors, sacrificing civilians in their billions and practicing scorched earth tactics. After a month-long campaign, the Infernals stood before the final Mechanicum stronghold, where the tech-adepts frantically labored to devise their own weapons that could deny Nihlus his conquest.
None know what horrifying techno-sorceries or devices were unleashed in the cataclysmic final battle. The skies cracked open with the titanic forces let loose as the Mechanicum technology battled the determination of the downtrodden and the power of a Primarch; the ground was torn apart and molded anew, fissures filled with the bodies of the fallen. At the climax of the battle, a massive explosion shook Kars to its core, knocking the planet on its axis and altering its orbit in a new configuration, much closer to its sun.
When the smoke cleared, only one figure emerged from the wreckage. Nihlus was the sole survivor of the apocalypse, badly burned yet triumphant, returning to the pitiful remains of his people a victor. The Emperor’s arrival saw Nihlus rule over an empire of scavengers trying to survive the changed environment while salvaging the remnants of advanced technologies left by the extinguished Mechanicum.
The initial reunion of father and son did not go well, as Nihlus’ bitterness and arrogance had almost caused him to attack the Emperor on sight. It was only the sight of the Eighth Legion’s warriors that made the Primarch relent, instantly realizing what they were and what his importance was. Just moments after reacting belligerently, Nihlus went down on one knee, announcing to his few surviving followers that he had seen the truth, and the Lord of the Sky was worthy of his allegiance.
The Primarch’s scarred visage hid a smile. Finally, he had found the perfect tools for his campaigns, the warriors he could mould into his own image. Finally, he had found kindred souls.
Legion Organization
The Techno-Magi of Kars had lost almost all of their humanity, replacing their souls with the artificial intelligence chips as much as they replaced the flesh parts of their bodies with augmetics. For them, a single life meant less than zeroes and ones of a binary code, a scrap of metal that made up their titanic forges that kept on churning machinery too insane for the mind to comprehend. And yet, it was a single life that changed the planet.
Nihlus was found in the irradiated, polluted wastes outside of a hive city, clinging on to life where nothing should have been able to survive. The Techno-Magi had little curiosity for the matters of flesh and left the young Primarch to rot in their forges amongst the other unfortunate menials, condemned to a short, miserable life of harsh labor and endless toil.
Life in the slave pits was brutal and devoid of compassion or sympathy. The slaves fought one another for scraps of food or luxuries their masters have discarded, hoping that they might be selected by the tech-adepts to join the ranks of the elite. Nihlus’ natural strength, cunning and intelligence have quickly marked him as a leader, attracting the attention of the tech-adepts who had promoted him to a taskmaster, slave driver, and eventually an overseer. Here, the Primarch’s skill with engineering and technology became apparent, as he sought to artificially augment the slaves in his charge to deliver ever-higher quotas of raw materials and industrial production to the Techno-Magi in the spires of Kars.
It was not long before Nihlus’ pride outgrew his meager position in the Karsian society. Secretly, he began creating cybernetic augmentations for his slaves that could be turned into deadly and dangerous weapons, while swaying many of the downtrodden to his side either through promises of luxury and power, or, more frequently, by threats and intimidation.
Despite all of the Primarch’s preparations, he was not ready for a betrayal. One of his lieutenants, a disgraced former tech-adept sent to the slave-pits as punishment for past transgressions, informed the Karsian Techno-Magi of Nihlus’ plans. The Mechanicum retribution was swift and merciless. The heavily mechanized skitarii attacked before Nihlus could rally his warriors, destroying most of his host and capturing the Primarch.
The Techno-Magi had found that Nihlus was far outside of the normal human range of resilience to injury and stress, and subjected him to tortures so inhuman that even his genetically-enhanced body was grossly disfigured through countless burns, cuts and vile attempts at experimentation, all the while the Techno-Magi watched with satisfaction. More than one tech-adept quickly rose in prominence amongst his kin, attempting to rationalize the superhuman properties of Nihlus’ body, and the inexplicable levels of resistance to all damage and maladies exhibited by the Primarch.
Betrayed by the only society he had ever known, Nihlus fell deeper and deeper into despair, then into rage as his predicament got worse. Finally, just as he was at his lowest and most desperate, something changed within the young man. Betrayed, used and abandoned, Nihlus channeled his rage into a singular focus, tapping deep into his immense psychic potential to generate a blast of force that devastated cubic kilometers near his holding area and freed him while the surviving Techno-Magi mired about in confusion.
Alone, burned, disfigured and with no one to turn to, Nihlus survived on the outskirts of Karsian society, finding common cause with the nearly feral scavengers living in the dangerous, devastated wastes beyond the planet’s hive cities. Uniting the disparate clans, tribes and extended families, the Primarch waged a silent, brutal war against the Techno-Magi and their armies of cyborg skitarii, sabotaging their forges and defensive outposts while creating an ever-evolving array of deadlier and ever more dangerous weapons to arm himself and his warriors with.
Wherever Nihlus went, destruction followed. The years of tortures and betrayals have numbed him to the plight of the forge slaves, while his ambition and hatred of the Techno-Magi combined into a potent drive to see their kind exterminated. Dressed in rags covering most of his body to avoid presenting his horrifying visage to his followers, Nihlus became known as the Burned King, an avatar of destruction incarnate, only marginally less terrifying to his friends than to his foes. Soon, the closest clique of his followers began to ritually burn their flesh in imitation of their leader, adopting the name of the Infernals as their hit and run attacks began to take their toll on the Techno-Magi overlords.
After five years of war, both sides had committed atrocities on a massive scale, turning the conflict into a war of attrition. At first, the Techno-Magi controlled the industry of Kars, but Nihlus was impossible to capture, hidden by Kars’ unforgiving environment and living amongst those who adapted to life in the wastelands. The feral savages, augmented with the scavenged and heavily modified technology, struck time and again, always too few to hold ground yet capable of wrecking the enemy infrastructure faster than the tech-adepts could repair it.
As forges went dead one by one, the Techno-Magi resorted to using biological, chemical and nuclear weapons, attempting to exterminate all life on Kars outside the hives. Still, Nihlus and the host of the Infernals lived on, protected by the makeshift bunkers while those incapable of holding weapons perished outside. In a terrible week of wrath, Nihlus’ people were reduced to barely a fraction of their old number.
When Nihlus and the Infernals emerged from their underground havens, they found a very different world. The scavenger tribes were no longer a thriving society capable of destroying their enemies and making a new life on the ruins of old. Now, they were pathetic dregs of humanity, incapable of continuing the war of attrition.
The Primarch’s heart sunk as he witnessed the ruin of his world, the end of his labors. For the second time in his life, his work was undone. But this time, he had the means to strike back.
Nihlus threw himself into work, designing stranger and stranger machines, weapons and devices that were as dangerous to his followers as they were to his enemies. The secret hideaways churned out munitions, bombs and weaponry that could destroy cities and continents, even if such devastation came at the cost of leaving nothing to conquer. If Nihlus could not rule Kars, no one would.
Once again the forges went dark, but this time the attacks formed a single, determined pattern, destroying both military and civilian targets as if the Infernals no longer cared for conquest, only destruction. Once again the Techno-Magi released the weapons of mass destruction, only to find that the now mostly cybernetic Infernals were immune, surrendering the shreds of their humanity for the power to destroy their hated enemies. Nihlus cut a bloody path through everything the Techno-Magi sent against him, reprogramming battle servitors, sacrificing civilians in their billions and practicing scorched earth tactics. After a month-long campaign, the Infernals stood before the final Mechanicum stronghold, where the tech-adepts frantically labored to devise their own weapons that could deny Nihlus his conquest.
None know what horrifying techno-sorceries or devices were unleashed in the cataclysmic final battle. The skies cracked open with the titanic forces let loose as the Mechanicum technology battled the determination of the downtrodden and the power of a Primarch; the ground was torn apart and molded anew, fissures filled with the bodies of the fallen. At the climax of the battle, a massive explosion shook Kars to its core, knocking the planet on its axis and altering its orbit in a new configuration, much closer to its sun.
When the smoke cleared, only one figure emerged from the wreckage. Nihlus was the sole survivor of the apocalypse, badly burned yet triumphant, returning to the pitiful remains of his people a victor. The Emperor’s arrival saw Nihlus rule over an empire of scavengers trying to survive the changed environment while salvaging the remnants of advanced technologies left by the extinguished Mechanicum.
The initial reunion of father and son did not go well, as Nihlus’ bitterness and arrogance had almost caused him to attack the Emperor on sight. It was only the sight of the Eighth Legion’s warriors that made the Primarch relent, instantly realizing what they were and what his importance was. Just moments after reacting belligerently, Nihlus went down on one knee, announcing to his few surviving followers that he had seen the truth, and the Lord of the Sky was worthy of his allegiance.
The Primarch’s scarred visage hid a smile. Finally, he had found the perfect tools for his campaigns, the warriors he could mould into his own image. Finally, he had found kindred souls.
Legion Organization
The Iconoclasts are organized into ten Clans, which are roughly equivalent to
the other Legions’ Great Companies. Each Clan, named after its current leader,
tends to maintain its own armory, recruitment sources, missions and unique
internal organization. Nine of the Clan Leaders owe fealty to the Primarch; the
tenth Clan is led by Nihlus himself. While all Clans are theoretically equal,
it is Clan Nihlus that holds the greatest prestige amongst the Legion’s
battle-brothers.
There is no standard organization within the Clans, however, each Clan tends to be organized on loosely tribal lines, with the officers holding their positions based on not only combat accomplishments but age and experience. As such, the captains and the sergeants tend to be the oldest members of their units, and the Clan Leaders tend to be amongst the oldest Space Marines alive. Consequently, many officers keep enough of their hair and beard to show hints of grey, and the “greybeards”, as they are informally known, are seen as the most dangerous of the Legion’s warriors, having survived everything the galaxy could throw at them and living to tell the tale.
The Librarians, known as the Shamans, occupy a special place within the Legion. The Iconoclasts tend to keep only very sparse records, consistent with their self-image as the destroyers, and do not consider themselves a particularly spiritual Legion. As such, the primary goals of the Shamans are two-fold: they are both a weapon and a method of motivation for the Legion’s battle-brothers. The Shamans’ powers are usually focused on blunt force, and are rarely subtle, burning, eviscerating and flaying the Legion’s enemies. In war, they seek weakness in both the enemy lines and in the hearts of their own men, taunting and goading the other Iconoclasts to ever greater levels of battle rage. It is considered the Shamans’ duty to harden the hearts of Iconoclasts in combat, replacing what little humanity they still possess with boundless, irrational, nihilistic hatred. Some other Primarchs, most notably Nyxos of the Grim Angels, have voiced some concerns over this practice, but such concerns were quietly ignored by the Eighth Legion.
The Shamans also serve another, less obvious function. The Legion’s psykers are all considered a part of Clan Nihlus, no matter where they were recruited from. Thus, the Iconoclasts’ Librarius serves as a secondary, independent command structure, answering directly to Nihlus himself and keeping to their own secretive practices. It is not unknown for the Shamans to supplant an officer deemed weak or incapable, taking field command until a suitable replacement could be found. Furthermore, the Shamans are sometimes used to herald the Legion’s coming and the total destruction it will bring to the non-compliant worlds.
Combat Doctrine
There is no standard organization within the Clans, however, each Clan tends to be organized on loosely tribal lines, with the officers holding their positions based on not only combat accomplishments but age and experience. As such, the captains and the sergeants tend to be the oldest members of their units, and the Clan Leaders tend to be amongst the oldest Space Marines alive. Consequently, many officers keep enough of their hair and beard to show hints of grey, and the “greybeards”, as they are informally known, are seen as the most dangerous of the Legion’s warriors, having survived everything the galaxy could throw at them and living to tell the tale.
The Librarians, known as the Shamans, occupy a special place within the Legion. The Iconoclasts tend to keep only very sparse records, consistent with their self-image as the destroyers, and do not consider themselves a particularly spiritual Legion. As such, the primary goals of the Shamans are two-fold: they are both a weapon and a method of motivation for the Legion’s battle-brothers. The Shamans’ powers are usually focused on blunt force, and are rarely subtle, burning, eviscerating and flaying the Legion’s enemies. In war, they seek weakness in both the enemy lines and in the hearts of their own men, taunting and goading the other Iconoclasts to ever greater levels of battle rage. It is considered the Shamans’ duty to harden the hearts of Iconoclasts in combat, replacing what little humanity they still possess with boundless, irrational, nihilistic hatred. Some other Primarchs, most notably Nyxos of the Grim Angels, have voiced some concerns over this practice, but such concerns were quietly ignored by the Eighth Legion.
The Shamans also serve another, less obvious function. The Legion’s psykers are all considered a part of Clan Nihlus, no matter where they were recruited from. Thus, the Iconoclasts’ Librarius serves as a secondary, independent command structure, answering directly to Nihlus himself and keeping to their own secretive practices. It is not unknown for the Shamans to supplant an officer deemed weak or incapable, taking field command until a suitable replacement could be found. Furthermore, the Shamans are sometimes used to herald the Legion’s coming and the total destruction it will bring to the non-compliant worlds.
Combat Doctrine
The Eighth Legion are the masters of close-range firefights and siege warfare,
usually supported by massed artillery barrage from their numerous siege tanks.
The Iconoclasts tend to emphasize toughness and resilience in their warriors,
who are expected to be first into the breach, and who take pride in the amount
of wanton destruction they cause. Whenever possible, the Iconoclasts would
initiate an assault with an artillery barrage, leveling any fortifications they
face. The Marines would exploit any breaches by forming heavy infantry
spearheads, penetrating the enemy perimeter and giving no quarter to any who
resist. As a result, the Eighth Legion developed a fearsome reputation, causing
many worlds to surrender at the mere mention of their approach.
The Legion is at its best when faced with the most stubborn or dangerous of foes, where no negotiations are possible and total extermination is the sole objective. This attitude had caused the Iconoclasts to come in conflict with several other Legions, most notably the Grim Angels, the Peacekeepers and the Lion Guard, all of whom have complained about Nihlus’ actions to the Emperor. It is a testament to the Eighth Legion’s brutal efficiency that they had not been censured, proving their worth time and again and leaving trails of depopulated planets and exterminated xenos species.
Legion Beliefs and Practices
The Legion is at its best when faced with the most stubborn or dangerous of foes, where no negotiations are possible and total extermination is the sole objective. This attitude had caused the Iconoclasts to come in conflict with several other Legions, most notably the Grim Angels, the Peacekeepers and the Lion Guard, all of whom have complained about Nihlus’ actions to the Emperor. It is a testament to the Eighth Legion’s brutal efficiency that they had not been censured, proving their worth time and again and leaving trails of depopulated planets and exterminated xenos species.
Legion Beliefs and Practices
Nihlus’ battle to conquer Kars left the planet a barren rock covered with
ruins, its once massive population now reduced to a fraction of its former
size. As such, it is not particularly useful as a recruitment base, giving the
warriors recruited from Kars a higher standing within the Legion. They are seen
as being closer to the Primarch, and therefore more valuable compared to their
lesser brethren recruited elsewhere. As such, the warriors of the other nine
Clans are seen as somewhat expendable, expected to prove their toughness like
the true sons of Kars.
The Iconoclasts see themselves as the weapon of last resort, unstoppable once they are unleashed. The Legion’s training emphasizes the totality of destruction, and sees weakness as the ultimate sin one could commit. As such, the Iconoclasts had developed a reputation for being particularly harsh on their mortal allies, to the point where many Imperial Army commanders simply refuse to work with them.
On the battlefield, the Iconoclasts decorate themselves with the freshly taken trophies of the enemy. It is a matter of some pride amongst the Marines to decorate themselves with as many trophies in as short of time as possible, terrifying their enemies with the clear indication of their impending fate. Outside of battle, very few, if any, Iconoclasts bear any decorations other than symbols of rank. Even those are sparse and utilitarian, embodying the philosophy of total and absolute destruction.
Some Imperial observers have noticed a disturbing tendency amongst the Iconoclasts. While most other Legions are content to destroy the enemy forces and the enemy’s will to fight, the Iconoclasts seem to take undue pleasure in eradicating the monuments of the vanquished, their cities, their artwork and structures. On several occasions, detachments of the Eighth Legion were even reprimanded by the Imperial authorities for going out of their way to destroy targets of little military significance but immense cultural importance.
Recruitment and Gene-Seed
The Iconoclasts see themselves as the weapon of last resort, unstoppable once they are unleashed. The Legion’s training emphasizes the totality of destruction, and sees weakness as the ultimate sin one could commit. As such, the Iconoclasts had developed a reputation for being particularly harsh on their mortal allies, to the point where many Imperial Army commanders simply refuse to work with them.
On the battlefield, the Iconoclasts decorate themselves with the freshly taken trophies of the enemy. It is a matter of some pride amongst the Marines to decorate themselves with as many trophies in as short of time as possible, terrifying their enemies with the clear indication of their impending fate. Outside of battle, very few, if any, Iconoclasts bear any decorations other than symbols of rank. Even those are sparse and utilitarian, embodying the philosophy of total and absolute destruction.
Some Imperial observers have noticed a disturbing tendency amongst the Iconoclasts. While most other Legions are content to destroy the enemy forces and the enemy’s will to fight, the Iconoclasts seem to take undue pleasure in eradicating the monuments of the vanquished, their cities, their artwork and structures. On several occasions, detachments of the Eighth Legion were even reprimanded by the Imperial authorities for going out of their way to destroy targets of little military significance but immense cultural importance.
Recruitment and Gene-Seed
While each Clan is responsible for its own recruitment, only Clan Nihlus is
permitted to recruit from Kars due to that planet’s low surviving population.
The Karsian youths are carefully screened for genetic and temperamental
suitability, then implanted with gene-seed to begin their transformation while
they are mentored by the older battle-brothers of the Legion. The other Clans
tend to recruit from the worlds they conquer, usually putting suitable youths
through brutal initiation trials that usually result in casualties well in excess
of 95%. The recruits are often taken against their will, and are afforded low
status in the Legion, considered expendable fodder until they prove themselves
in battle.
Nihlus’ gene-seed is considered stable and without obvious major flaws, although the Legion’s Marines are known for their tendency to cause inordinate amounts of damage even when the missions call for precision and finesse. It is not yet known if this tendency is due to a flaw in the Iconoclast gene-seed, or if it is a product of their upbringing. Additionally, the Iconoclasts appear to have heightened tolerance for pain, although a minor mutation in their gene-seed causes their scar tissue to appear discolored, giving them a patchy, uneven appearance. As a result, many Marines took to wearing masks made out of gold, silver or other precious metals. The masks are usually fashioned into the likeness of angelic, perfect faces, and are worn both in and outside of combat.
Nihlus’ gene-seed is considered stable and without obvious major flaws, although the Legion’s Marines are known for their tendency to cause inordinate amounts of damage even when the missions call for precision and finesse. It is not yet known if this tendency is due to a flaw in the Iconoclast gene-seed, or if it is a product of their upbringing. Additionally, the Iconoclasts appear to have heightened tolerance for pain, although a minor mutation in their gene-seed causes their scar tissue to appear discolored, giving them a patchy, uneven appearance. As a result, many Marines took to wearing masks made out of gold, silver or other precious metals. The masks are usually fashioned into the likeness of angelic, perfect faces, and are worn both in and outside of combat.
During Heresy
Though originally sent to support Starfall against the forces
of Iskanderos, the Iconoclasts adopted a wait-and-see approach based on the
urgings of Krast Herod, a former ambassador to the Imperial Redeemers. Nihlus
reasoned that if his brother was truly as powerful as he claimed, it would be
wise to join him against the Council of Terra composed of bureaucrats and petty
politicians; if the Imperial Redeemers could not win easily, then the
Iconoclasts would have crushed them, and none would have known better. As
Iskanderos thoroughly obliterated the Illuminators and defeated Mohktal in a
confrontation, the Iconoclasts turned their guns on the Council fleet, throwing
their lot with the rebellion.
It is not clear when the Iconoclasts began to heed the
whispers of Chaos, but it is likely that they, or at least Nihlus and his
closest circle, were already aware of the Eightfold Path by the time of
Starfall. From that time, corruption was swift and voluntary. Freed from the
restraints placed upon them by the Emperor and the Council, the Iconoclasts
willingly allowed abominable rituals to be enacted upon them in return for
unearthly toughness, augmented psychic powers, or other arcane advantages. Even
their ships were further enhanced with dark sorceries enacted by the Legion’s
many Shamans under the auspices of Nihlus himself.
By the time of the Eighth Legion’s fateful campaign
against the Angel Kings, the Iconoclasts were fully given over to Chaos,
referring to their chosen deity as the “god of mercy”. The Legion’s already
brutal and uncompromising outlook was a perfect fit for the worship of God of
Entropy; the Legion’s commitment to outright extermination of all they faced
was merely a service to grant all life in the galaxy the final mercy of death,
a reprieve from its suffering. For the first time in their existence, all moral
ambiguity was stripped away from the Iconoclasts – now, they were soldiers in
the cause of greater good, their former excesses justified and the atrocities
to come blessed by Grandfather Nurgle.
This newfound strength and purpose served the Iconoclasts
well in subverting a large portion of the Warblades Legion into full-blown
Chaos worship, while ensuring that those with questionable loyalties were made
a non-factor for the rest of the rebellion. With the newly branded Abyssals in
tow, the Iconoclasts rampaged through the outlying worlds of Corwin’s dominion,
keeping the Angel Kings busy and ensuring that Iskanderos had a free hand in
dealing with Marvus and the Doom Reavers.
Though a significant portion of Nihlus’ forces remained
behind to continue harassing the Kingdom of Angels, the Primarch himself led at
least half of his Legion into Segmentum Solar in support of Iskanderos. There,
the Iconoclasts were utilized to their fullest extent as a guided weapon of
mass destruction. Many worlds had voluntarily switched sides at mere mention of
the Eighth Legion approaching, and many more were destroyed with callous,
brutal attacks that left them uninhabitable wrecks. Even though the Legion was
already fully given over to Chaos, its greatest transformation was yet to come.
At Galen IV, the Iconoclasts were ordered to take place of
Imperial Redeemers in the battle against the Fourth Legion, the stoic Steel
Wardens. While the Council loyalists hoped to trap Iskanderos, the rebel leader
had other, much darker plans for the battle, and turned the trap against
Echelon and his Legion. As the planet’s Mechanicum ruling caste rose up against
the Council, and the Iconoclasts were beginning to gain an upper hand, the
Council reinforcements led by Nyxos of Grim Angels virus bombed the planet
rather than join the futile battle.
As the Life Eater virus ravaged his body, Nihlus laughed,
for the power of the Grandfather was strong in him and his Legion, and
manufactured biological weapons held little sway over those sworn to the Lord
of Plagues. Instead of being reduced to primordial ooze and burned to ash as
the planet’s atmosphere ignited under the lance strikes of Grim Angels, the
Iconoclasts were transformed, rising from the devastated world as the creatures
of entropy made flesh. With thousands of virulent plagues coursing through
their bloated bodies, the warriors of the Iconoclasts were finally immune to
pain, weakness, or hesitation, becoming the merciless tools of universal
destruction they were always meant to be.
The act of the Legion’s transformation also served as a
catalyst for Nihlus’ own ascension to the rank of a daemon prince. No longer
fully corporeal or even mortal, the Destroyer became a terrifying scourge of
the Council worlds, appearing to spread death at the head of his similarly
twisted lieutenants as the living visage of terror. Wherever Nihlus went, the
plagues followed, leaving entire sectors desolate and depopulated.
The Iconoclasts formed a considerable part of Iskanderos’
strength during the Fall of Terra, and were one of the foremost Legions to
assault the walls of the Imperial Palace. Aided by their unnatural resilience,
the Plague Marines of the Eighth Legion were instrumental in breaking down of
the gates, and though they took grievous casualties, they were able to infect
countless millions of Terrans with their plagues, weakening the loyalist
defenses enough for Iskanderos’ final push.
Post-Heresy
After Iskanderos’ death and the fracturing of his Legion,
Nihlus made a play for power amongst the Chaos forces. While clearly blessed by
the Dark Gods, he was never the most popular of leaders outside of his own
Legion, and was quickly challenged both by multiple commanders of the Imperial
Redeemers, and by his brother Griven Kall. In the resultant conflict, the
Iconoclasts proved unable to overcome their more numerous opponents, and after
the Second Battle of Terra and Griven Kall’s own daemonic ascension, Nihlus
ordered his men to withdraw from the Throne World.
In the centuries since, the Iconoclasts became a rampaging
force answering to no one, destroying world after world seemingly at a whim.
Though in the days before the rebellion Nihlus used the Legion’s many Shamans
to enforce his will, these psychic warriors eventually became highly adept in
the ways of the Empyrean and began to have their own ambitions. The Marines who
were not present at Galen IV and did not undergo transformation were the first
to leave, unwilling or unable to make the final sacrifice into the all-out
worship of Nurgle. Not long thereafter, many Shamans began to leave the larger body
of the Legion, until only a hard core of dedicated Plague Marines followed
increasingly more bitter and inhuman Nihlus.
Seething with rage at these betrayals, Nihlus cursed his
wayward sons, disowning them as his progeny and ordering his remaining followers
to consider the departed Iconoclasts to be traitors, to be slaughtered on
sight. Only the warriors fully committed to the cause of indiscriminate
destruction and the final mercy provided by entropy were worthy of the final
mysteries of Nurgle, and it is with them that he would share his grand design
for the galaxy.
Retreating to his homeworld at Kars, Nihlus used
unspeakable rituals to convert the planet to a full-fledged daemon world. The
continent-spanning industries became the repositories of Warp-spawned filth and
ichor, spawning daemons of the Plague God and innumerable abominations of flesh
and metal. The planet’s sky, already darkened by millennia of unchecked
industrial pollution and cataclysmic global warfare, became pitch-black save
for the pools of sickly miasma floating through the corrupted heavens and
bleeding insufferable bioluminescence like corrosive, diseased rain. The
continents, once drenched in apocalyptic fire, became home to strange things
not subject to the laws of natural evolution, while fungal spires rise to low
orbit, where the ships of the Eighth Legion dock to bring plunder and slaves to
the homeworld.
Hordes of diseased, mutated wretches are forced to worship
at these spires until their bodies become suffused into the anomalous soil
strewn through with varicose veins and abscesses. Flies and vermin devour their
bodies until the wretches are barely more than atrophied carcasses screaming
their pain to their uncaring lords. Only those who fully accept the
inevitability of their suffering and rejoice in it may be reborn as
plague-ridden initiates of the Iconoclasts, augmented with the dark magicks of
Nurgle to serve the cause of entropy.
Even though his forces continue to grow stronger, Nihlus,
the Daemon Prince of Entropy, knows that the time is short. As the galaxy is
accelerating towards yet another conflict, much of it still remains unexplored,
outside his and his Legion’s reach. For this reason, the Iconoclasts continue
their raids, attempting to swell their numbers and to destroy every world they
can reach, no matter its allegiance, so that none survive the hour of final
dissolution.
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