Artorius Castus

## History

Artorius Aethlios Castus, he who is known and respected as the oldest, wisest and strongest captain of the Silver Hosts, was born on the moon of Trireme some 500 years ago. Raised as the son of a petty crimelord operating in the shadows of the moon's dark underworld, Artorius knew only the harsh reality of constant territorial wars with rival crime groups and the unforgiving environment of a home that held nothing but abuse and violence from a father prone to sudden outbursts of psychotic rage. Kept alive only for his exceptional strength, Artorius would encounter his destiny at the age of 14 whilst on an errant for his father, out in the vast shipyards of Trireme.

It is possible that his father expected him to die when he sent him to infiltrate a ship belonging to the Adeptus Astartes, or perhaps he had as much confidence in his son's abilities as the boy himself. Self-assured of his success, the young Artorius found himself inside a ship belonging to the Argent Eagles, tasked with stealing an object that held great value for his father's crime syndicate. But of course, it did not take long before his intrusion was discovered. Overconfident in his own skill, he attempted to kill the first Space Marine he came across, armed with nothing but a small autogun and a knife. Luckily for Artorius, Second Captain Aléxandros felt very generous that day, and so he merely broke the boy's arm before questioning him. The captain was simultaneously impressed by how far Artorius had come before being discovered and intrigued as to why anyone would risk stealing from the Angels of Death. As the two of them talked, Aléxandros became aware of the boy's circumstances and gave a proposition. A day later, the vast complex that had once been the seat of Trireme's criminal underworld lay in ruins, obliterated by the Argent Eagles who had been given the location of every entrance and escape route. Eager to leave the smoldering site he had once called home, Artorius was brought to the Argent Eyrie on Auroria, where he would undergo the trials of ascension in order to join the ranks of the Space Marines.

While many in the Chapter's ranks would have a hard time believing it, Artorius was far from a promising aspirant. Although he had always been strong in body and talented at escaping peril, he still struggled immensely with many of the trials, passing some only through the help of his fellow aspirants, others by sheer luck. In the final trial of the winded peak he nearly met his end and only survived by sacrificing the better part of his left leg to a rather hungry Icanor. When he had finally made it back to the Argent Eyrie, he was already as good as dead from bloodloss and the many wounds he had sustained. The Sanguinary Priests barely managed to bring him back from the brink, yet in the end he had completed the trials, if only by a hair's breadth.

The coming years would see him grow into a confident but reckless warrior, often earning censure for his thoughtless behaviour in the face of the enemy. By the time he had reached 200 years of age he was still a mere Battle-Brother, switched from one Host to the next, as he seemed unable to find his calling in any of them. Yet as his skill at arms became greater and greater, so did his arrogance. After he had unexpectedly bested Aléxandros, whom he had grown close with since his ascension, during the Celebar Gladio, Artorius was named the Chapter Blademaster. Clearly having forgotten the lessons of the past, Artorius became ever more confident in his abilities and threw himself into increasingly greater peril, consistently seeking out mighty opponents to measure himself against as if tempting fate to strike him down. Ignoring the warnings of his friend, Artorius repeatedly used his standing as Blademaster as an excuse to blindly charge into the fray. Eventually however, Artorius would discover the price of his hubris firsthand.

In the year 700.M41 a strike force consisting of the 5th, 8th and 7th Hosts embarked on a campaign to the planet of Drusioth VIII. to swiftly crush a planetwide uprising by the inhabitants of the world. Yet without warning, the Space Marines were suddenly assailed by a massive Ork Waaagh that had inexplicably emerged from the asteroid belt circling the planet. They were outgunned, outnumbered and cut off from their fleet. When the leadership of the 7th Host was wiped out during the ork's first assault, the remaining warriors looked to Artorius, the famed Blademaster, to lead them. It was not just his position but also his seniority in age that made his comrades think of him as the most logical choice, a train of thought that he himself more than agreed with. Even among the Captains of the other two Hosts his notoriety for being reckless was overshadowed by his reputation as a brilliant swordsman and brave soldier, one who did not falter in even the gravest of situations. Eager for what he saw as a glorious challenge, Artorius rallied his brothers to face the bulk of the enemy army head-on in an attempt to lure out and kill their warboss. He knew that this was not how the Chapter usually fought, especially not against a numerically superior foe. He did not care. What followed was one of the greatest disasters in the Chapter's history, a brutal slaughter that saw almost all the Argent Eagles which took part in it cast down and torn to shreds. Many who withstood the initial massacre fell victim to the Red Thirst and the Black Rage. The few suviving Astartes of the 7th fell back to commit their last stand, dragging the wounded body of Artorius from the battlefield. When the Argent Eagles were eventually saved by their allies, Artorius was no longer the same man he had been.

Following the battle that would come to be known as the Disaster at Drusioth, Artorius was crushed by overwhelming feelings of guilt and failure. He had lost most of his closest friends and companions and had plunged his Chapter into defeat. The other survivors put no blame on him however, once more praising his bravery and the great damage he had dealt to the orks in his valiant charge. Yet Artorius was unable to forgive himself, abdicated the mantle of Chapter Blademaster and requested a formal censure to be placed on him by the Great Council. For many years to come, the humbled Artorius was pained by self-doubt and shame, trying to make ammends for his foolishness by subjecting himself to harsh disciplinary training routines and intensifying his studies into the philosophies of Auroria.

In the end, the only solace for his shattered pride and sense of self-worth he could find was in the teachings of the Argent Faith. Though his loyalty to the Emperor had been unquestionable from the day of his apotheosis, he had never before felt or even sought the warmth of a parental figure. Not until the day he fell to his knees in the halls of the Daybreak Cathedral and begged the Argent Aeon for guidance. What emerged from that sacred place was a warrior determined to right the wrongs of his past, not through self-hatred and doubt, but through the strength of his blade and the virtues of his mind.

Throughout the following decades, Artorius Aethlios Castus slowly but surely grew into the man famed and admired today. The sword of the dawn, the prince of Trireme, the first and greatest among the Captains of the Silver Hosts. A confident demeanor of calm certainty marked all of his future actions, furthered by his skill at arms, perfected by his tactical mind and tempered by the warm kindness of a man who had found forgiveness from a power greater than himself. He became a master at aerial assaults, commanding the squadrons of his Chapter's aircraft with such brilliance that no foe could stand against them in the battlefields of the sky. Decapitation strikes against high priority targets were no longer carried out to further Artorius' own vainglory, but only when vital to a campaign's strategy. A leader who knew how to inspire and reassure those that followed him, a soldier that could be counted on to fulfill any task he was given responsibly and effectively. That is what Artorius forged himself to be through trial and tribulation. Eventually he reclaimed his title of Chapter Blademaster and was granted the esteemed Captainship of the 1st Host. With peace of mind and purity of spirit, Artorius even managed to at last harness the Blinding Radiance as a weapon, a feat only few in the Chapter ever achieve. Though complete mastery of this ability would elude him, his creative use of the Radiance only exacerbated his skill with the sword. Through many campaigns and countless battles, the Lord of the Holy Dominions would go on to prove himself a thousand times over, finding redemption for the sins of his old self and leading the brothers under his command into victory and glory. All the while Aléxandros, now the Chapter Master, would watch with pride as his friend matured into the hero he always hoped he would become.

Unfortunately, the hardships of a Space Marine never truly end. When the Silver Hosts set out to stand with the Blood Angels upon Baal, the might of Leviathan threw itself against the Chapters of the Blood in an unending swarm of Tyranid monstrosities. Artorius and the veterans of the 1st Host stood wherever the fighting was fiercest, moving throughout the vast halls of the Arx Angelicum to support their sanguine Brother Chapters. Over the course of his terrible battle, Artorius would bear witness to the deaths of hundreds of warriors of the Argent Eagles. He had known most of them since their days as neophytes, and had seen all of them grow, struggle and ultimately fall. Those he called friends, those he had taught, those he had fought alongside for six centuries. His Chapter, his brotherhood, his family. Even though he himself as well as most of his own Host had survived the Devastation of Baal, once the dust had settled he was changed once again. When they had come to Baal, none of them had expected to survive the battle. But Artorius could never have foreseen the anguish he now felt for living through it. Death and war were commonplace for Astartes, such was their life and duty. Yet after seeing so many of his brothers torn apart and devoured by a neverending tide of alien horrors, after failing to hold back the enemy, after hearing the all encompassing screams of thousands of fellow Space Marines suffering and dying amidst the screeches of a billion alien throats, something broke within him. While he did not let it show on the outside, Aléxandros could tell that his First Captain had not emerged from the conflict unscathed. The Lord of the Holy Dominions now regularly awoke from his slumber bathed in a cold sweat, unable to forget the hissing of insect-like maws and the smell of Tyranid blood. Wherever he went, images of warriors having their heads wrenched from their bodies flashed before his eyes, the sound of bolters and cannons firing without rest rang in his ears, the incessant buzzing of his sword's powerfield reverberated in his mind. He could not fathom why, after all these years of waging war, he was suddenly afflicted by such terrifyingly human weakness. Was he cursed? Were his genes more mutated than he knew? Was he simply going insane? No matter how many questions he asked he could find no answers to his plight. As if to make matters worse, the return of Roboute Guilliman burdened him with even more conflicting emotions.

When the Chapters of the Blood were saved by the Indomitus Crusade, many in the Argent Eagles were convinced that Guilliman was the harbinger of the new dawn that was foretold in Aurorian scripture since ancient days. Artorius too, wanted to gladly welcome their saviour. Not just his gratitude but also his religious zeal at witnessing one of the Argent Aeon's own sons made him thankful to meet the Primarch in the flesh. But what he could not tolerate as easily were his new brothers. The Primaris that the Lord Regent brought with him, meant to replenish the shattered Chapters of the Blood and to usher in a new age of reclamation. Of course Artorius was grateful, who wouldn't be after receiving such a gift? In a matter of months, the Chapter would be able to regain its former strength. But still, he could not countenance what he saw as nothing more than a cheap replacement for all those brothers whom he had loved as his own family. He had just seen his Chapter butchered to a shadow of its former self, and now he was supposed to simply let these new warriors take the places of those that had fought and died alongside him for hundreds of years? It was an insult, not just towards him, but towards all those who had given their lives for the home of Sanguinius. The Primaris of the unnumbered sons knew nothing of their ways, of their culture and traditions. He simply could not bring himself to accept them as sons of Auroria. The customs of his homeworld told him that Guilliman was the bringer of hope, and his faith told him that he was no less than a divine saviour. In the presence of the Lord Regent he felt closer to the Argent Aeon than ever before, yet in the presence of the Primaris he felt disgusted.

Coupled with the trauma he sufffered from the Devastation, all these feelings clashed and fought with each other in his mind. To make matters worse, the effects of the Red Thirst and the Blinding Radiance began worsening, robbing him of the ability to channel the Radiance as a weapon and increasing the amount of blood he needed to slake his thirst. Even signs that he may be feeling the pull of the Black Rage have begun to emerge, though the Captain has shared these symptons with none but the Chapter Master himself.

He began attributing his emotional turmoil to his own weakness, and loathed himself for it. More than once did he feel tempted to vent his anger at his new Primaris brethren, but he never did. He had learned to control such emotions long ago, but the very fact that he felt tempted was proof to Artorius, proof that 500 years of life had come to nothing, that he was still the impulsive, irrational and spiteful youth taken from the rubble of Trireme's underworld. Not a champion of the Chapter, but a disgrace. He pondered if the heroes of the Argent Eagles who came before him struggled with the same doubts, the same weaknesses. Did they feel what he felt? Artorius could not believe that to be so, and felt ashamed walking past the marble likenesses of past champions. Even his own statue in the Promenade of Legends now seemed an insult to their legacy, such that he almost smashed it to pieces with his bare hands on a number of occasions.

As if to add a final burden, he and his Chapter have now been given the task to help in securing the darkened Imperium Nihilus where the light of the Astronomican can no longer reach. A monumental task, even under the direction of Commander Dante.

## Personality

Artorius still upholds the facade of his former self, acting out the personality of the confident hero who set out towards Baal, though he is now changed in more ways than one. Artorius was always known for being charismatic with his fellow brothers, interacting with equals and subordinates as though they were his blood relatives, showing respectful restraint only with those above his station. A man of humour who would always encourage and inspire those he fought alongside with, and display great sorrow at their passing.

The truth of the man who was broken on Baal is somewhat more bleak, for Artorius no longer views himself as the strong champion of the Chapter, but as a weak failure unworthy of the Aeon's grace. Despite his best efforts, many have noticed the dour shroud that is now cast over him, weighing down his foot steps and rendering his smiles false. Dark dreams and self-doubt mark every aspect of his behaviour, and those closest to him have grown concerned. Only when bathed in the blood of the alien and the traitor does the erstwhile Lighmonger now find solace, treading a crimson path which slowly pushes him further towards the curses of the Blood.

## Physical Appearance & Wargear

### Appearance

The facial features of Artorius are more stern and rigid than those of his brothers. Unmarred like solid marble yet equally unmoving. His eyes are a pale and milky blue like polished chalcedony, hiding a haunted and icy gaze. Though he is of heroic stature, his height is shorter than that of most Astartes. His luscious hair is the same blonde colour that all within the Chapter inherit from the Great Angel, and reaches down to his chest, though recent events have seemingly darkened it somewhat. Attached to it is a ceremonial chain of silver that conveys the number of years served through four opals and two jadeite stones entangled in it. His once clean-shaven face is now covered by thin, dark blonde facial hair.

### Wargear

The wargear of the First Captain is as grand as one might expect in both quality and ostentation. As witnesses to his great deeds and glories serve not only the Battle Honours upon his armor but the three great relics of the Chapter he is honoured to carry. Atop his head rests the Crown of Trireme, a golden Mark III. helmet of great craftsmanship and greater renown. His left shoulder is burdened with the ancient Forefather's Pauldron and sheathed at his side is the legendary Powersword Eos. His armor is painted in the standard veteran markings of the 1st Host and adorned with elaborate patterns of gold and silver which curve elegantly around emeralds, amber crystals and diamonds, expertly cut into various star shapes. His breastplate features a single crimson bloodstone taken from Baal. Engraved into the interior of his armor are the names of all the Space Marines of the Argent Eagles that laid down their lives during the Devastation of Baal, each name carved by Artorius' own hand. Etched into the back of his right gauntlet are the names of the three worlds that Artorius and his men were forced to enact Exterminatus upon during the approach of Hive Fleet Leviathan.

Even though Artorius wields the great relic weapon Eos he rarely draws it from its scabbard on the battlefield, for in his eyes only the greatest of foes are worthy to taste its edge. Against most enemies that engage him in close quarters he uses his personal Powersword Moonfire. Artorius only ever chooses the glorious slaughter of melee combat when absolutely neccessary however. He therefore carries a pristine Mark II Cawl Pattern Bolt Rifle as well as a simple boltpistol wherever he goes, so that he may personally eliminate any approaching threats, assuming that his command squad has not dispatched them already, as is generally the case. Though it is his right and privilige, Artorius often refrains from donning the great cloak worn by the other Captains of the Chapter, thinking it to be a hinderance whilst fighting.