Legion of the Damned 6E

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THE LEGION OF THE DAMNED
‘Of all the legends of the Imperium, one of the strangest is that of the
Legion of the Damned. For those who know where to look, there are many
corroborated accounts of these otherworldly warriors, their unexpected
appearance upon a desperate battlefield, and their sudden and
inexplicable disappearance at the battle’s end.’
- Inquisitor D. Meloriac, Ordo Chronos
There is a legend, whispered in secret by a suspicious few, that the Emperor has the
loyalty of a force from beyond reality. An army of vengeance and of flame, a brotherhood
of warriors who appear at first glance to be Space Marines but quickly prove to be more
lethal than even those most formidable of warriors. This force appears unbidden when all
hope seems lost, striding from their hidden netherworld to bring retribution to the
Imperium’s foes. Once their bloody work is complete they vanish into myth once more.
These warriors are variously said to dwell in the spaces between this world and the realm
of the Warp, in the hopes and dreams of desperate men, and in a pocket of reality
eternally lit by the fires of hatred. Rare is the man that has witnessed the sudden violence
of their attack, rarer still those with the strength of will to keep their sanity intact
afterwards.
This force is known only as the Legion, or more specifically, the Legion of the Damned.
SAVIOURS FROM BEYOND
Little is truly known about the Legion, though a few truths have come to light as reports
of their manifestations have been collated and compared. They invariably attack to save
some part of the Imperium from disaster, a fact that implies they have powers of
prediction that even the most gifted of seers and prophets cannot rival. Whenever the
Legion of the Damned appears on the field of battle, they do so without warning. Bursting
out of a sulphurous cloud of flame, they stride from nothingness, adorned with icons of
the grave. With a terrible efficiency, they cut down the foe, not a wasted motion nor a
spoken word giving pause to their dark work.
The Legion is always clad in ceramite of deepest black. Despite their surroundings,
whether they appear in the brightly lit haven of a planetary governor or under the glare of
a sun at its zenith, their armour seems to consume natural light. Even direct torchlight
does not illuminate them. Instead, the pale bones and death’s heads emblazoned on their
armour are lit by a lambent fire, their armour flickering as if each Legionnaire has been
set alight with some combustible chemical. It is more likely these pyrotechnics are
psychic in nature, for they blaze bright whenever the Legion’s blades sink into the flesh of
their victims. There have been several accounts of Legionnaires becoming little more than
pillars of flame at the height of an engagement; on such occasions, the individual will
fight with terrible ferocity before succumbing to the flame and disappearing from reality.
To witness the Legion of the Damned fight at close quarters is to observe true martial
prowess, for they combine the brutal power of the Space Marine’s gene-enhanced
physique with the expertise and insight of a veteran weapons master. Knives plunge deep
through exposed joints and into thundering hearts, bone-clad fingers stab through throats
and eye sockets before returning, red and wet, to the triggers of their guns. Here and
there, a hurled combat knife claims the life of an enemy trying to escape; never aiming to
wound, always to kill. The Legionnaires attack with an economy of motion that leaves
even the warriors of the Adeptus Astartes wide-eyed with surprise.
Though their ornate suits of ceramite are as efficacious as that worn by any other Space
Marine, the Legionnaires are able to shrug off wounds that would cut apart even a warrior
clad in Tactical Dreadnought armour. Energised blades slice them without resistance,
melta beams and plasma volleys pass right through them without causing the slightest
harm. Sometimes such deadly weapons find their mark, inflicting horrific damage and yet
not slowing the Legionnaires in the slightest. Those who witness such ethereal sights at
first conclude that their deliverers are some manner of ghost or spirit, though the
destruction the apparitions mete out soon puts the lie to the idea they exist only beyond
the veil.
The impression of burning vengeance is always uppermost in the minds of those that
witness the Legion of the Damned on the attack. Not only do their bolter shots ignite the
air in stabbing lances of energy as the Legionnaires march towards the foe, but they bring
to war a great many flamers, heavy flamers and multi-meltas, incinerating with pitiless
efficiency those foes that cower from their sudden assault. Those enemies that simply
stand agog at their sudden change of fortunes are blasted apart with expertly placed mass-
reactive bolts.
However, after-action pict analysis has put a mysterious twist on even these most
fundamental of Adeptus Astartes kill-tactics. Imperial scholars have concluded that the
Legionnaires are able to fire far more bolts from their weapons than the ammunition
capacity of their clips would suggest – indeed, no footage has ever been recorded of any
kind of weapon reload, even in the most protracted of engagements.
Once the tide of battle has been turned, and those in need of rescue have been freed from
the threat that had closed around them, the Legionnaires vanish from sight. Some
witnesses say they looked away for a second only to look back and find nothing there,
others that the Legion shimmers before disappearing like a fading holograph. The strange
static that accompanies these disappearances prevents any proper record of their exit
from the field. Those monitoring devices that are able to steal evidence of a Legion
manifestation invariably have machine spirits that are badly traumatised, and have to be
coaxed back into life by a talented Magos or Techmarine before they will yield any secrets
at all.
A peculiar property of any mass apparition is that it will quickly fade from memory. If an
investigator wishes to obtain any kind of first-hand account, he must visit those who
witnessed the incident within days, preferably hours, for the presence of these strange
Space Marines erases itself from the mind much as a dream or nightmare. Nonetheless,
the scent of burnt flesh lingers in the nostrils and on the tongue for weeks, years, or even
the rest of the witness’s life, resulting in disturbing thoughts that can never quite be
traced back to their source.
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