Sur Terra ils avaient commencé, tous vêtus de gris orageux, de Terra ils avaient marché, pour faire payer les tyrans!
Terra, la planète qu'aucun d'entre eux ne reverrait jamais – chacun d'eux pris du stock guerrière d'Albia à l'unification de leur monde... seul le jeune Kazimir ayant été arraché de Barbarus, ses traits ces gante et suif si familiers sur le monde maintenant damné.
Beaucoup de ceux qu'ils accompagnaient aujourd'hui auraient connu le nom de la « Garde des Morts », la Quatorzième Légion, mais peu d'entre eux auraient remarqué le fait que – sous la peinture noire éclaboussante et battue de leur marque trois et quatre costumes d'armure de puissance, sous l'Aquila poncée et encastrée des Astartes loyalistes – la peinture qu'on y trouvait était grise, celle de leurs bras droits d'un cramoisi profond, et sur leurs épaules droites l'évanouissement du soleil et du crâne de la légion qu'ils avaient autrefois été.
Squattant sur l'une des routes les plus mineures, les systèmes de son armure encore en train de tourner, Ferreus a maladroitement tordu sa tête sur le point de prendre dans les plusieurs autres membres de son équipe, le casque coincé en place mais ses yeux capables de regarder de côté en côté à travers les fentes oculaires avant lui; tout était prêt il semblait, boulons coiffé et chargé, même le Multi-Melta braqué autour par le plus grand de son équipe prêt à être déployé à un moment donné avis. C'était une arme qui, à moins qu'ils ne puissent trouver d'autres munitions pour elle, devrait éventuellement être jetée, peu importe combien frère Tihomir l'aimait.
Le sergent Gentian hissé, poussant un grand doigt dans la direction de la bataille, plusieurs figures faisant leur chemin vers le château et le son distinct des anciennes variantes de l'armure se mêlant au feu de boulon, la crosse des grenades, et le ra-ta-ta-ta de tourelles de défense automatisées. On leur avait dit que Château Thorn n'était pas une fortification normale, et l'intelligence s'est avérée être bonne.
Donc, ça commence.
Avec un grognement d'effort et une exhalation d'air, les Astartes sans nom sont revenus à sa pleine hauteur, le crépuscule – leur allié naturel – s'installant même au fur et à mesure qu'ils se déplaçaient, les casques auto-sens ramassant des personnages mortels et des cibles alors même qu'il commençait à avancer sur le château avec son escouade s'aventurant dans une semi-croûte de chaque côté de lui.
Bien qu'il ait, et par rapport à son équipe, été chargé de prendre le toit – une position stratégique en effet, et non un à abandonner à la légère – il pouvait voir des dizaines de traîtres en uniforme se mouillant sur les gros volumes des APC de Rhino. Pour autant qu'il sache que ce sont les vraies cibles, c'est ce qui les porterait au cœur de l'ennemi et de là à la gloire finale... des boîtes métalliques.
"Génétien!"
Les Légionnaires s'arrêtèrent et descendirent brusquement, à mi-chemin entre leur objectif et leur ancienne couverture des bois environnants, tous aussi noirs que la nuit et probablement pour cette seule raison – ainsi que l'ajout de « distraction » de l'autre côté de la fortification – qui ne se faisait pas tirer dessus, Ferreus gestuant le sergent de s'agenouiller par lui.
Ouvrir un canal avec les autres escadrons, J'ai vu les APC; Dois-je m'engager, ou allons-nous sur le toit?
Trop longtemps avait-il été un suiveur, mais il n'était pas vraiment un leader, donc pour l'instant il allait attendre.
Name: Ferreus (Gothic for both 'Iron' and 'Immovable')
Age: Around 247
Legion: Unknown - Suspected to be the Death Guard
Planet of Origin: Unknown - Terra or Barbarus
Physical Description:Standing at an average height of seven feet and three inches, when out of his armour, he has the look of an experienced pugilist and wrestler - not at all strange, considering he is both - his shaven cranium of dark stubble sloping down to an almost Neanderthal brow line, two eyes of stormy grey glaring out from deep-set sockets and brows of black hair as if challenging anyone and everyone.
Continuing from the top, his nose and ears are certainly that of a fighter, the former having clearly been broken a number of times, and the latter both formed into the well known 'cauliflower ears' of the martial man. His thick-set jaw is kept equally as hairless as his head, crossed with faded scars, and nearly as square as the remainder of his body, his torso very much seeming like a solid slab of rock...except made from muscle, bone and sinew; each limb is like the trunk of a tree, stretched psychically as far as the unique physiology of the Astartes will allow them to go, muscles rippling clearly beneath his rather pale skin as he moves and his hands more than able to crush the skull of both mortal man and Space Marine both.
In battle he girds himself in his not-always-reliable suit of Mk III 'Armorum Ferrum' Pattern power armour, the entire construct a walking edifice to brutal frontal assaults and wars of attrition; from the numerous pits left by solid shells and projectiles, to the deeply burnt scorch-marks of more laser based weaponry, Ferreus accepts them all on his re-painted armour of deepest black - however, if one looks close enough, they may be able to see through the murky and well worn layer. Just under the surface of those colours which obscure his true origins, if you look close enough without becoming a target of his ire, one may peak the crimson shoulder plate, gauntlet, knee and stormy coloured ceramite of the obsolete Dusk Raiders.
As a loyalist member of a so-called 'traitor' legion, and as one of the re-minted blackshields, the sturdy armour of this Astartes goes completely unadorned apart from several Imperial Aquila to show where his loyalties lie. On the other hand battle scars are the only decoration that a warrior needs, and he has plenty of them as well.
Skillset:Oddly enough, Ferreus combines the skill-sets of several differing legions - the stoic attitude and casual aloofness of the Dark Angels, the ferocity and thrill for close-quarters fighting of the Blood Angels and World Eaters, and the immunity to biological substances and extra ordinary constitution of the Death Guard. In hand-to-hand conflict or a close-range fire-fight he is truly to be feared, whether using his weapons or his fists alone, coming at his enemies directly and without hesitation or mercy.
His specialisations include trench warfare and wars of attrition, as well as warfare in harsh or toxic enviroments.
History:Istvaan III...the Choral City...
The whole sordid affair was where the life of the Astartes known simply as Ferreus had truly began, a rebirth if you will, the final awakening of a once loyal soldier and follower of his Primarch to the depth and breadth of corruption and betrayal which had slithered its way into the heart and soul of the once-beloved Warmaster and his now twisted brethren. It was here that the loyalist, primarily Terran-born elements, of each of the legions was to be purged from existence by their own former comrades - thereby destroying any inner revolts, and showing the utter loyalty and commitment to the cause of the traitors. Loyalty to the Warmaster and their Primarchs over the Emperor, and commitment to the cause of placing this maniacal pawn of Chaos at the head of the burgeoning Empire of Man.
Well, needless to say he believed he was dead; rising stiff and alone on the dead surface of a dead planet, digging his way through fallen rubble that had buried him for over three weeks before finally reaching the surface once more, wary to the point of paranoia and mistrustful of any other he came across whether purported loyalist or one of his blood-enemies of his former legion and their allies.
While not Istvaan III itself, each and every one of the loyalist combatants massacred on that damned planet as far as he knew, Ferreus had been forced to turn his gun on at least half of his own company to save his own skin. It had been on a planet called Leandros IV, he and his company - for he had achieved the rank of Lieutenant, before being placed down to Sergeant for an unspecified infraction, and was trusted to complete his tasks with efficiency - that formerly jovial and friendly brothers-in-arms had turned their weapons upon he and his own in just another attempt to thin out the ranks of those more loyal to their Emperor than to their Primarch and his cause.
After fighting his way through his 'brothers', leaving those he could not protect to the tender mercies of the enemy, he fled into the thick undergrowth and forcefully boarded the Thunderhawk which had been used to land upon the planet, urging the pilot at gunpoint to take him up and away from there even as he began to scrape the paint and insignia of his legion from his ceramite.
Upon learning the full extent of the atrocity on Istvaan III, and with every intention to do his utmost to bring the Emperor's wrath to those he now saw as nothing more than prey, Ferreus painted his armour black and marked himself with several hand-painted aquila to show where his loyalties lay to any that would see.
Between then and his meeting with the Rogue Trader Balixus Kyros, a meeting that would turn out to give him a goal for his efforts and a chance at seeing justice meted out in full, he took part in numerous guerilla actions against traitor formations - it was in once such action that he claimed his chainaxe, plucking it from the still twitching fingers of a World Eaters officer and spitting upon the corpse as he did so. Sieges, ambushes, and frontal assaults, he took part in any and every action that he could if it would damage those that he had once counted as allies and peers.
Such things take a toll even on a superhuman warrior, and the respite now given to him after being picked up and bought to relative 'safety' aboard Balixus' vessel is a blessed relief...and yet there is always the tugging at the back of his mind, the primal need to pile death upon those who wronged him, and perhaps he is once more let loose against the traitor Horus and his cronies there will be no more peace for him. Only war.
Psychological Profile:Ferreus is almost as dour as they come; although his demeanour is rather without emotion, fatalistic, and black, there are plenty who have seen this as a sign that he must therefore be mentally slower to boot! This, as those many have found, is certainly not the case and Ferreus is actually in possession of a rather keen, logical, and cunning intellect that has allowed him to foresee many things that others cannot both on and off of the field of battle. When the bullets and dirt starts flying is when he truly comes alive, amidst the cries and screams of his enemies, fighting alongside his brothers and in the name of his Emperor - who he still considers his true liege - and in the rarest of circumstances he has even been known to sneer, which is as close to a smile as he can get.
Equipment:
 Phobos-pattern Bolter with attached combat blade.
 Ikanos-pattern Bolt Pistol
 Chainaxe - taken from a World Eater
 Standard issue gladius (the blade coated in various poisons to which Ferreus is immune)

Notes: Accompanied by four Astartes armed in a similar manner, with a bolter, close-quarters weapon and sometimes a sidearm;
- Sergeant Gentian
- Apothecary Lőrinc
- Brother Kazimir
- Brother Tihomir (is the squads designated heavy weapon expert, carries a Multi-Melta)