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The Chaos Gods whispered to the Primarchs from the warp, disturbing their dreams with promises of limitless power. In the underground labyrinths of Calth, the vendetta between the Word Bearers and the Ultramarines turned to outright war.
Brother fought brother, former allies turned into the most bitter foes by an act of treachery that would resound through the galaxy forever more. No single Primarch was wholly resistant.
The character of each was sorely tested, and fully half of them eventually failed that test. This list of names should have been a roll-call of honour, a roster of mighty heroes that would make the enemies of Mankind tremble.
Yet each succumbed to the honeyed promises of Chaos and reneged on their fealty to the Emperor, and each became a figure of infamy that would haunt the Imperium for time immemorial. When the rebellion against the Emperor came, its leader was to be the Primarch least suspected of any treachery; the great and noble Warmaster, Horus.
Yet the announcement bred jealousy and confusion in many of the Primarchs. Did their father really intend to abandon them at this most critical time? Without explanation, the Emperor left for Terra in order to further his mysterious agenda, leaving Horus to deal with the Crusade in his wake. Initially, even the mighty Primarchs had little idea that they had fallen to the wiles of the Chaos Gods.
When they rebelled, their good intentions and just causes began to fall away as their spirits became saturated with the energies of the warp. Slowly they were remade, body and soul, by the powers that claimed them. The Space Marine Legions that they led inevitably followed the fall of their commanders, blind to the faults of their genetic fathers and ever hungry for more conquest.
The corrupting force of Chaos spread into the Imperial Army and the Mechanicum. There, beset on all sides, Horus fell to a blow from an eldritch sword. The tainted wound festered, plunging Horus into a fugue state from which he could not be roused.
The Sons of Horus were desolate at the loss of their founding father. Under the advice of Erebus, a respected Chaplain of the Word Bearers, the most senior members of the Legion took their Primarch to one of the Davinite warrior lodges for healing. Although superhuman in physique, they were all too human in their souls, and therefore fallible. The Emperor decreed that if the commander of Isstvan went unpunished, other worlds might follow.
Horus chose to end the Isstvan rebellion swiftly and without mercy, employing virus bombs against Isstvan III from orbit.
The voracious life-eater virus consumed every living thing upon the planet in a matter of minutes. Whole continents and cities were burnt to ashes as the mass of gasses released by the rotting organic material ignited in the atmosphere, scouring Isstvan III clean in a devastating firestorm.
Twelve billion souls died with a death scream that momentarily pulsed brighter than the Astronomican. It was a signal to the Chaos Gods that Horus was now completely theirs, for it was an act of treachery on a scale never before seen. Horus had ensured their numbers were almost entirely made up of those Space Marines from each Legion who were still loyal to the Emperor, intending to wipe out those who had proved incorruptible in a single deadly stroke.
Of these brave warriors, fully two-thirds miraculously survived the bombardment, thanks to warning messages received from the dwindling ranks of loyal comrades left aboard the orbiting fleet of the Warmaster.
Angron, headstrong as ever, made planetfall at the head of fifty companies of Traitor Marines to slay these survivors. The ground war began in earnest, signalling the start of the greatest turmoil to ever have engulfed the Imperium.
On Mars, the Tech-Priests turned ancient, forbidden weaponry upon each other, further scarring the face of the Red Planet in their bitter struggle for dominance. The Imperium tore itself apart as old feuds were revived and ambitious planetary lords seized the opportunity to declare their secession. With the initial attack stalled, Horus brought his entire arsenal of weapons and warriors to bear.
For over a month, the gigantic cannons of the rebel army pounded the walls, foremost amongst them the siege weapons of the Iron Warriors and the Legio Mortis Titan Legion. Eventually, after heavy bombardment, part of the curtain wall came crashing down.
The Traitor Legions hurled themselves at the breach to pour into the inner palace. At the heart of the fighting stood the Primarchs. The indomitable Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists and noble Sanguinius of the Blood Angels fought a desperate rearguard action to halt the force pouring through the breach.
To the terrified populace of Terra, it was as if their world was drowned in battle. The loyalists were attacked from both sides, and very few escaped. As the rebel forces slowly closed their grip upon the loyalist troops, the Emperor readied himself for the final conflict. The last hours of Humanity had come, and the few remaining gallant defenders prepared themselves for certain death. The Legions of Horus poured into the Imperial Palace in an unstoppable wave. Shouting praise to the gods of Chaos, the Traitors threw themselves at the final lines of defence.
Hundreds of depraved attackers died to salvoes of bolt shells and lascannon blasts, but the Chaos Space Marines were implacable in their advance. The Imperium was soon entirely engulfed by civil war. All across the galaxy, loyalists and rebels fought tooth and nail to destroy each other, gripped in a bitter conflict that would see all of Mankind fall — or worse, enslaved by the Ruinous Powers.
Even with his Space Marines, his daemonic allies and half the Titan Legions behind him, Horus could sense that time was of the essence. The Warmaster had become an almighty champion of Chaos, and he and his ship writhed with the fell power of the Dark Gods. Nightmarish beyond comprehension, the sight of it drove many of the Space Marines mad.
Despite the horror of his surroundings, the Emperor pressed on towards the bridge, seeking the Warmaster. The skies turned black with Chaos Drop Pods and Dreadclaw assault craft. As the traitors sought to conquer the hundreds of square miles of towers, walls and bastions that formed the Palace defences, the dead were piled so thickly that their corridors became blocked by the press of corpses.
Gigantic dropships landed at Lions Gate and many other starports, bringing a second wave of Heretic Astartes to the fight. When the Emperor breached the armoured doors of the bridge, he finally came face to face with his misguided son. Horus, swollen with the power of Chaos, stood over the dead and broken body of the angelic Primarch Sanguinius. Horus faced his creator, and in an instant, the two were locked in deadly battle, likened ever after to a duel between gods.
They battled not only with powered blade and claw, but also on the psychic plane, their bodies and spirits locked in a struggle to the death. With a last effort, the Emperor struck home, The Emperor had always been guided by his innate prescience, but even he could not be sure which way the tide of this battle would finally turn.
After being notified that loyalist reinforcements were soon to arrive, the Warmaster decided to take a risky gambit and lowered the shields protecting his flagship, hoping to lure the Emperor into a personal confrontation. That very instant, the Master of Mankind saw what he had to do. It was the final chance at victory for both sides, for the future of the human race was at stake.
In doing so the Emperor paid the ultimate price for his victory, and darkness overcame him as he finally allowed his body to suffer his terrible wounds. With the death of the Warmaster, the Chaos armies lost the assistance of their daemonic allies — and with it, the resolve to fight.
The Battle for Terra was over, but the cost was unthinkable. The Emperor ascended to the arcane life-support systems of the Golden Throne to hold his ultimate death at bay. Terra was in ruins, her cities levelled, her peoples devastated. Such was the ferocity of their attacks that nothing short of the complete rebuilding of Terra could even begin to heal the wounds inflicted during the siege.
The loyalists had won, though the Imperium lay in tatters around them. The Traitor Legions retreated to the Eye of Terror, swearing that they would return to set the galaxy aflame once more.
He took with him the body of the Warmaster, and an unquenchable thirst for vengeance. Within the giant warp rift, the traitor Primarchs and their Legions found sanctuary amongst the nightmarish Daemon worlds. They warred amongst themselves for dominance and territory, while factions split from the Legions to found other warbands and armies.
They have never stopped fighting against the Emperor. This struggle has lasted for ten thousand years and even now besets the Imperium. The Horus Heresy is a distant memory, but the taint of Chaos still threatens to corrupt — the Long War continues.
They sought to purge those brothers that had turned to darkness, following on their heels with the focus of a pride of lions on the hunt. The period that followed was known as the Scouring. The Traitor Legions and their twisted Primarchs continued to fight — no longer for the conquest of the Imperium, but for their own survival. The wars of the Scouring lasted many years and almost exhausted the manifold armies of Terra.
The loyalists eventually hounded their turncoat brethren into the Eye of Terror. It became both prison and stronghold to the traitors, the only stable space lane in and out barred by the fortress world of Cadia. Still the traitors launched their raids, wounded animals lashing out with bloodcrazed savagery.
As if the traitors were not enough for the badly mauled Imperium to deal with, this time also marked the rise of the alien threat. With so much of its strength committed to its grand civil war, Humanity found itself assailed anew by the very xenos empires it had recently driven back.
The Horus Heresy had torn the nascent Imperium from the heights of glory, and plunged it into a nightmare of eternal war.
It was to carry the most terrible cost. Many strange and hideous changes have been wrought upon them since their retreat, and their bodies have been reforged into forms more pleasing to the Ruinous Powers.
Still these killers remain unrepentant, convinced they walk upon the path to everlasting glory. At first, this desire is focused towards specific goals, but as time passes, it becomes a bone-deep obsession.
Though the Dark Gods are given to rewarding their mortal followers for acts of carnage that further their divine cause, the gifts they bestow upon their favoured are fickle indeed. A particularly extravagant slaughter might be rewarded with a blood-red aura that invigorates the supplicant, but it is just as likely the champion will find his arms being reshaped as axes of bone, or that he has the face of a slavering hound. Eventually, the Chaos Space Marine seeks immortality, to ascend to such lofty heights of favour that he is remade as a Daemon Prince.
But for every successful aspirant there are hundreds of failures, mutated beyond recognition into mewling abominations known as Chaos Spawn.
Ten thousand years of history have obscured those dark days when Horus almost enslaved Mankind with the shackles of Chaos. Indeed, records of the full horror of the Heresy are only preserved by the Inquisitors of the Ordo Malleus, and perhaps the memories of the Emperor himself. Within the Eye of Terror, however, time flows differently. Many of the same traitors who howled their praises to the Gods of Chaos before the Imperial Palace still live to this day. Their defeat gnaws at them like a cancer, and their hatred of the Imperium burns undimmed.
Those warriors who were once dutiful, honour-bound Space Marines have become cynical and embittered reavers determined to destroy that which they once protected. For these traitors, the Horus Heresy is not some distant, half-forgotten age, but a glorious war still in living memory — a war that is still being fought. Little remains of the organised Legions that waged war upon ancient Terra. Millennia of jealousies and infighting have broken down the Legions into companies and warbands of varying sizes.
Each is led by a captain or champion of Chaos who pursues his own destiny. The most fervent worshippers of the Dark Powers band together to form squads blessed by a patron god and bear their mark upon their bodies and armour. Most have simply sworn themselves to all of the Chaos Gods. In the ever-changing delirium of the Daemon worlds, many traitor Legionaries have survived the worst of the warping influence of Chaos by keeping their sense of purpose.
They are carried forth by ancient warships that have survived from the time of the Heresy, but are now encrusted with millennia of baroque decoration and scarred by old battle wounds. The Traitor Legions also capture drifting space hulks — vast agglomerations of spaceborne detritus and wreckage — and refit them to use as vast battle barges carrying thousands of troops. With these assets, the warbands of Chaos go forth to despoil the worlds of the Emperor, enslave his followers and steal his wealth so that they might carry out further attacks.
Thus, the punitive raids of the Traitor Legions are an ever-present threat to the worlds of the Imperium, especially to those systems around the Eye of Terror.
With each new millennium, dozens of disillusioned or power-hungry Chapters defect, just as Horus did. Only the High Lords and the Inquisition have any idea of how deep the rot goes. Nonetheless, some renegades have achieved such notoriety that their legends resonate throughout entire sectors. Over the course of centuries, the forces of Chaos have been further swelled by Space Marines who have turned from the light of the Emperor to pursue their own agendas.
Freed from the dogma and traditions of their Chapters, these renegade Space Marines become corsairs and mercenaries, using their unequalled battle skills to gather wealth and power. The most powerful then set themselves up as the tyrannical figureheads of pirate fleets and rulers of bases hidden on desolate planets.
As they explore this new freedom, these Space Marines inevitably turn at some point to the Gods of Chaos to grant them more power to do with as they will. From this point on, they are as doomed to walk the path of the Chaos champion as any Traitor from the Horus Heresy. These renegades are hunted men; they are especially loathed by other Space Marine Chapters, who consider it a duty of honour to crush any renegades lest their perfidious behaviour become a stain upon the honour of all Space Marines.
Though never rivalling the size and power of the Legions, a Space Marine Chapter is a potent military force. Such events always warrant an extreme response from the Imperium, usually involving the intervention of other Space Marine Chapters. It is perhaps the most trying test of faith for a Space Marine to have to pit his skill, training and loyalty against another Space Marine.
Though the scions of Chaos do not have the unshakeable faith of their loyalist brethren, the disturbing gifts they receive from the Ruinous Powers in return for their allegiance can more than compensate. Because of this, these internecine conflicts often have a calamitous effect on other Chapters nearby.
Inter-Chapter wars tend to escalate quickly, engulfing many worlds in war and bloodshed. On occasion, those forces sent to deal with the treacherous Chapter may actually end up, in whole or in part, joining with those they were sent to destroy.
Just such an occurrence took place during the Obscuran Uprisings of the late 34th Millennium. During the four hundred years of separatist rebellions that were spread across much of Segmentum Obscurus, at least seven Chapters broke their oaths to the Emperor and took part in the pillaging of hundreds of vulnerable or warravaged worlds.
Of these Chapters, two — the Sons of Vengeance and the Silver Guards — initially fought on the side of the Imperium, but fractured into warbands and turned renegade after their actions against the Free Council of Hannedra II.
Insurgencies such as these plague the history of the Adeptus Astartes, and each has been a devastating setback to the Imperium that its masters are eager to suppress. Over the years a Chaos Space Marine obsessed with death may find his helm transforming into a flayed skull that is fused to his own features, whilst one who seeks to glut himself on flesh finds his intestines mingling with the recycler cables of his power armour until he is a living engine of consumption.
Often, these perverted anatomies echo the shapes and hues of the Daemon servants of the Ruinous Powers, marking the Chaos Space Marine as the property of his patron, body and soul. The bitterness and spite of the Heretic Astartes has spread throughout the galaxy, spilling from the warp before bleeding back once more for time immemorial. Though the Inquisition takes great pains to quell reports of Chaos incursions in order to spare the common populace from unconventional thought, legends of these events persist across the galaxy, handed down through the generations by the foolish and the brave.
The first Space Marines are created in turn. With the warp storms that isolated Terra dissipated, the Emperor goes forth into the galaxy. The Imperium of Man is born. The Horus Heresy The galaxy is torn by rebellion. The forces of Chaos are eventually hurled back from Terra. Though Guilliman is mighty indeed, his opponent is a serpentine giant swollen with daemonic power, each of his four arms wielding a poisoned blade.
Guilliman is struck down by a slash across his throat. For ten long millennia, Guilliman lingers on the very threshold of death. The Adepts of the Administratum are horrified to find that the number of their invasions increases with every passing decade.
Invoking Nurgle, Perturabo imbues his curse with contagion and releases it into the mechanical systems of Toil, a vassal forge world. Chaos spreads through the machines, and the manufactorums begin to change.
On the eighth day, giant cables burst from the earth, daemonic machines hunt the living, and many-legged cathedrals of industry prowl the wastes. The planet is scoured of all native flesh. At the heart of the plaza, several hundred Noise Marines combine the output of their sonic weapons into a cacophony that resonates in both realspace and the warp.
Captain Revellion of the Ebon Knights leads his Chapter against their traitor cousins. Whilst the World Eaters are unconcerned by their own losses, Revellion is driven to desperation by the deaths of so many of his men. Uttering a dark oath, he leaves his surviving forces to combat the enemy alone. Hours later, the Captain stalks from the shadows covered head to toe in blood.
As he strikes down the last of the World Eaters, the surviving Space Marines give voice to victory cries, though their moment of triumph soon turns to ash. In a frenzy, Revellion hacks a swathe through the remaining Ebon Knights. The Great Degeneration After the unremitting violence of the xenocidal Quietus Campaign, the Annihilators Chapter finally succumbs to blood psychosis.
Those of the Chapter still able to act rationally gather at their fortress monastery in the hope of finding absolution. Instead of redeeming their sins, however, their corrupted Chaplains lead them in a ritual that leaves their souls wide open to daemonic influence. Every member of the Chapter is possessed over the course of a single night, shifting forms into armoured half-Daemon monstrosities.
Calling themselves the Beasts of Annihilation, the brethren go to war again, though this time it is the Imperium that feels their wrath. The Abyssal Crusade Warp Storm Dionys ripples across the galaxy, its empyric energies polluting a swathe of star systems. In addition to billions of Imperial citizens, no fewer than thirty Space Marine Chapters are judged by the charismatic Saint Basillius to be tainted. The Ecclesiarchal lord gives a choice to those so accused — seek redemption in the Eye of Terror or be exterminated.
Without exception, the condemned Chapters — known as the Judged — choose to embark upon a redemptive crusade aimed at purging the Daemon worlds of the Eye of Terror. Within that great warp rift some of the Chapters go missing or are destroyed, whilst others turn renegade in order to survive. The most resolute of the Judged return to the Imperium bloodied but unbowed nearly eight hundred years later, and discover that their accuser, Saint Basillius himself, is a servant of the Ruinous Powers.
Through subliminal indoctrination of the dominant sects and gangs, the Alpha Legion seed potential Space Marines with deviant philosophies and subconscious triggers. Though many of these youths are rejected by Librarians and Chaplains, some are recruited into the Chapter nonetheless, a lurking threat unknown even to the recruits themselves.
The Legion employ psychic attacks that awaken the latent personalities of the unknowing infiltrators amongst the defending Space Marines. Within hours, the Chapter disintegrates into a morass of battling factions, some of which join forces with the invaders. The Alpha Legion withdraws to the Eastern Fringe, its numbers bolstered with new renegades. The 1st Armageddon War Imperial forces upon the strategically vital world of Armageddon struggle to contain a rebellion across both Armageddon Prime and Armageddon Secundus.
At the height of the civil war, a space hulk enters the system and disgorges a horde from the Eye of Terror, led by Angron and his massed warbands of World Eaters.
Angron and his armies carve a red path across Armageddon Prime. The conquest of Armageddon appears inevitable until the Daemon Primarch pauses to draw more chaotic energy to the planet. During the reprieve, the Imperial forces are reinforced not only by Space Wolves from nearby Fenris, but also by the Grey Knights 1st Brotherhood. Though the subsequent battle costs the lives of all but a handful of the Grey Knights, Angron is driven back to the warp.
Afterwards, Squad Constantinus hunts down remnants of the hive fleet, uncovering Genestealer Cults within the noble families of the capital. The entire ruling class is executed. His patience gone, Sergeant Constantinus blames the Imperium for making him a monstrous killer and denounces the Emperor.
As his oratory takes hold amongst the anarchy, his agenda of martial discipline is beaten into the fabric of the Nova Terran civilisation. The old order is thrown down and statues of Constantinus the Liberator are raised in their place. Other servants of the Ruinous Powers soon arrive, drawn by the anarchy and bloodshed. The rebellion ends only when Constantinus is killed by agents of the Officio Assassinorum.
Eleven years of inter-system war follows, embroiling more than a dozen Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes. Skulls for the Skull Throne Having long ago amassed more human skulls than he knew what to do with, Roghrax Bloodhand of the World Eaters, swears to collect a skull from every warrior species in the galaxy.
Making haste for the Eastern Fringe, the maniacal trophy collector leads his fleet directly into the path of Hive Fleet Kraken.
Delighted at the prospect of collecting such large and varied skulls, he reaps a grisly bounty from the Tyranids. The Great Awakening A ripple of psychic activity passes through the Imperium, awakening the dormant powers of latent psykers across the galaxy. The resultant empyric backlash tears open hundreds of warp rifts, and many worlds are lost to daemonic incursion.
The Thousand Sons are seen in unprecedented numbers as the psychic apocalypse runs its course. The massed fleet brings the Chogoris, Kaelas and Sessec Systems to their knees, establishing a stranglehold over their space lanes.
Over the course of a single month, the Purge engineer the deaths of no fewer than fourteen billion Imperial citizens. The Drop Pods of the Space Wolves crash down to the algaeencrusted surfaces of the Hollow Worlds, and war soon rages throughout the tunnels that link them. Huron Blackheart collapses preselected portions of his gate networks with cold precision and timing, isolating and destroying much of the Imperial army sent against him.
Heavy casualties are sustained on both sides, and the invading forces withdraw in disarray. After a series of raids leaves the fortress monastery of the Marines Errant garrisoned only by a single company, Huron Blackheart sends his Night Lords allies to infiltrate the fastness and bring down its power shields and defence lasers.
Caught in a dilemma, the outnumbered and outmanoeuvred Space Marines fail to repel the invasion. The Great Rift The principal agents of the Dark Gods are united in a single grand cause, though few of them realise their labours coincide until their efforts yield truly spectacular results. Wars rage, cosmic rituals reach completion, and the barrier between realspace and the warp is weakened across a fault line in the fabric of reality.
The heavens themselves split apart, and the Cicatrix Maledictum yawns wide. Through the power of his implacable will and the favour of the Dark Gods, this champion brings about an unsteady alliance between the infernal scions of the warp, drawing together a terrifying army of Chaos Space Marines, Daemons, mutants and renegades. A Black Crusade is so vast that it darkens the stars.
In the years preceding each titanic invasion, the hell-forges of the Daemon worlds echo with the clangour of monstrous machines and nightmare industry, churning out armour and weapons for the wars to come.
When a Black Crusade is finally launched, the warp vomits forth the diabolical hordes of Chaos: armies of wretched mutants, hosts of Daemons, twisted monsters the size of buildings, numberless masses of cultists, wild tribes of abhumans and terrifying Chaos Titans.
Spearheading these nightmarish hosts are the Chaos Space Marines, united behind their champions in their desire to wreak untold destruction upon the Imperium. The most destructive Black Crusades have been those led by Abaddon the Despoiler.
Thirteen times has the Warmaster rampaged from the Daemon worlds of the Eye of Terror to wreak havoc upon his mortal enemies, his hosts plunging into the Imperium like an envenomed blade. Every attack has sent the Imperium reeling and ravaged worlds close to the Eye, but the Thirteenth Crusade dwarfs all those that have gone before. Many Imperial strategos have theorised that the first twelve campaigns were mere precursors to the current invasion, each seemingly unrelated event paving the way to the same goal — the Fall of Cadia, the coming of the Great Rift and the ultimate invasion of Terra.
Over the millennia, each of his conquests has gradually paved the way from the Eye of Terror towards the Sol System. Less obvious, however, is that, along that path, his actions have gradually unpicked the veil between realspace and the warp. During the course of his long years on the threshold of the Eye, Abaddon discovered a strange truth about the barrier between the materium and immaterium. Dotted across the galaxy were ancient structures of black stone, stark and monolithic on the outside but extremely complex within.
There were many of these upon the fortress world of Cadia. For thousands of years, the Despoiler sent his agents across the galaxy to locate these monoliths of black stone.
He spent many years calling in old alliances, striking daemonic bargains and invoking ancient pacts with the Traitor Legions and their corrupted Primarchs. Thread by tenuous thread, the Despoiler put together a plan to isolate and destroy these structures, using false objectives or even entire Black Crusades to conceal his true motives. Over the course of several world-scouring invasions, Abaddon shattered, toppled or blasted apart these structures wherever he found them — sometimes in person, at other times with his agents, his flagship the Planet Killer, or the immense Blackstone Fortresses he co-opted during the Gothic War.
The last of and greatest of these destructive campaigns was levelled at Cadia itself. Suddenly, all the manifold armies of Chaos were free to pour into realspace like blood from a deep wound. True to his claims, Abaddon had succeeded in ripping open the gates of hell.
As the galaxy has split along its length, with warp storms raging in a hundred locations and more, those Traitor Legions and Renegade Chapters who have sworn allegiance to the Warmaster have formed the vanguard of the invasion.
They are a broad-headed spear that has plunged deep into the heart of the Cadian System and emerged from the other side. Abaddon cares little how many casualties are amassed as his great agenda comes to fruition. This is a strategy Abaddon intends to see replicated on world after world as he extends the Crimson Path, each planetary invasion taking the Chaos Space Marines closer to Terra, with the armies of the Daemon lords following in their wake. Simultaneously, dozens of Renegade Chapters from the warp anomaly once known as the Maelstrom are pouring out into Segmentum Solar, forcing the Space Marines and their Primaris reinforcements to spread themselves thin as they fight on hundreds of fronts.
Abaddon has driven a talon of unreality into Segmentum Solar, its onset heralding the doom of the Imperium. As the drama plays out to its desperate conclusion, one thing remains certain — unending war. Originally created as the Luna Wolves, the Emperor renamed them the Sons of Horus in honour of their actions during the Ullanor Crusade.
They were the first to remove the icons of the Emperor from their armour, replacing them with the Eye of Horus, an image that would become a symbol of dread throughout the Imperium. Factions in the other Traitor Legions later blamed the Sons of Horus for initiating the rout from Terra by retreating into warp space with the body of the Warmaster, leaving the horde below leaderless.
But the battle for Terra was lost the moment Horus fell, and no power in the universe could have brought victory to the forces of Chaos after that. In the Eye of Terror, the Sons of Horus fought ferocious battles with the other Legions for possession of key worlds and resources, fighting to re-establish themselves as the pre-eminent Legion. The Sons of Horus worshipped one Chaos God after another, and each time more and more of their number gave themselves up to possession by Daemons.
Over the centuries they were bled white in a succession of conflicts with the other Traitor Legions. To add to the ignominy of defeat, the body of the Warmaster was stolen and attempts were made to clone him, much to the horror and revulsion of his remaining Legionaries. Denied their genetic and spiritual father, the Sons of Horus swore allegiance to Ezekyle Abaddon, Captain of the 1st Company, and hailed him as the new Warmaster.
The Legion has launched attacks across the breadth of the Imperium ever since, often vanishing as swiftly as they arrive. Abaddon and his warriors fought hard to regain their honour and rebuild their reputation, throwing themselves into the most dangerous conflicts they could find. At first, Abaddon won the grudging respect of the surviving Traitor Legions, but as his deeds became ever bolder and his list of extraordinary achievements grew, respect turned into active support.
His impassioned words have since fanned the smouldering resentment of the Traitor Legions into the raging fires of hatred. Champions of many Legions and gods now vie to fight for Abaddon in the colours of his Black Legion.
The Black Legion is made up of many warbands whose appearance and motivations vary wildly, but all are guided by the implacable will of Abaddon the Despoiler and so broadly employ the same tactics in battle. Feb 2, 7. This exercise consists of a text with multiple-choice questions.
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