Skandale Redemption Squads

The **Skandale Redemption Squads** are a unique formation utilised exclusively by the Warbringers Legion. As a Legion that holds honour, integrity and professional conduct to the highest standard, for those individual legionaries that conduct themselves ignobly or dishonourably, is considered the most egregious of sins. These dishonoured warriors are then relegated to the ranks of the *Skandale*, commonly known as '*The Damned*'.

Those assigned to these squads have their battle-plate stripped of all honours, painting their battle-plate coal black, and armed only with great swords. They are then granted the 'honour' of leading the Ist Legion's assaults. Often, this occurs during a 'Forlorn Hope' objective assault or within an inhospitable 'Zone Mortalis' campaign. Those that do not return alive from the *Skandale* are forevermore stripped of their honour and deeds, their name stricken from the Legion's annals.

## Background

The Warbringers possessed an unyielding personality as a Legion. In the matters of honor and respect, the warriors of the Ist held nothing higher. To other Legions in the Legiones Astartes, the Warbringers seemed elitist. That was contrary to the culture of the Legion as a whole. The warriors of the Ist understood their purpose and their role as warriors and believed they should conduct themselves honorably in everything they did and were. They had been bred for nothing more, and took great pride in their status. Every Legionary had to earn the respect of his brothers through his dealings in Legion Culture and his prowess on the battlefield.

Ignoble behavior was never tolerated, even at its most menial levels. Whether this was disrespecting a superior officer, coming to blows with a fellow warrior, or disobeying an order the Culture demanded an offender be reprimanded. The stripping of honours was common or in severe cases; servitor conversion.

The Knyaz judges whether the dishonoured warriors are redeemable; if they are, the offenders are all put into a specialist formation called the *Skandales* or 'The Damned'. Stripped of their honours, their armour painted black and thrown in front of Legion assaults wielding great-swords; literally fighting to earn their honour back. The only way to stand with the Legion again is to return alive from the Skandale Redemption Squads. Those that do not survive their damnation are subject to being forgotten forever, their legacy stripped from the annals of the Ist Legion.

## Story

**The Damned and Forgotten**
He stood there, the helm of his Mark III "Iron" pattern power armor securely clamped and sealed on his head, same as everyone else who had the dubious honor to be riding in this particular Caestus Assault Ram. For once he was glad for the helm, which he usually felt restricted his awareness of the battlefield around him. Now it offered him obscurity, for with the helm on he looked no different from those who stood in front and behind him, and it hid the shame written clear on his face.

He steadied himself as the transport shuddered suddenly, no doubt dancing around the enemy's futile attempts to bring it down, along with those it carried. He checked his bolter's magazine one more time even though he had already checked it six times since they boarded the transport, sighing as he mentally acknowledge that such idiosyncrasies likely contributed to his current situation.

An indicator flashed to life in the upper right corner of his HUD, warning him of the transports impending impact with their target in two minutes. He took a deep breath, before beginning in unison with those around him the oath he had been taught at the beginning of his mission, assigned by his superiors and ordered to reaffirm each time he went to battle so that he would not forget it.

"I am nameless, for I have lost the right to bear a name. I have sullied my honor and the honor of my lord and brothers. I have failed to uphold the traditions and standards lain forth by my Primarch and have thus proven myself sub-standard and below consideration. I have spat on the legacy of the relics of the past and cast off the bonds of brotherhood. I am Skandale, one of the Damned. I don the black to show all who see me my shame, as proof of my oath to my father that I will not rest until my honor is restored, until I have regained my position among those that once called me brother and I can call myself Warbringer once again. And should I fail I will be one of the forgotten, left to fade along with all those who failed to regain their lost honor, whose memory was blown away like dust on the battlefield. This is my oath, and I will seek nothing but a glorious death until I have fulfilled it."

The oath complete, he steeled himself for battle and watched the indicator count down the seconds before impact. Even then, when the counter hit zero the impact struck with the force of an angry Iron Bear, and would have thrown him forward had his boots not been mag-locked to the transport’s deck. His entire world rattled for what seemed an eternity before everything became still. For the few heartbeats of his twin hearts that it lasted, it was almost peaceful, but even that moment was fleeting. He heard the bang of the mag-lock bolts disengaging seconds before the assault ramp dropped open and the troop compartment flooded with light.

The lenses of his helm tinted to compensate for the glare but it still took him a millisecond to focus. Even then his vision beyond the mouth of the transport was blocked by the Skandale who had been assigned point, the boarding shield he carried held up in order to grant them some protection as they disembarked. One of the Skandale in front of him wasn’t so fortunate however, as an errant round ricocheted off the deck and buried itself in his neck. He grunted as he fell, doomed to be forgotten.

As they charged forward through the torrent of bolter fire he jumped over the prone body of a massive Legionary, the colors of the Iron Bears barely visible on his charred armor, obviously having been killed by the blast caused by the Caestus. He fired as he ran; intent on getting within distance to switch to his combat knife, sure that he’d have to kill his foes in close combat if he was ever to hope to regain his honor. He roared a battle-cry as he closed the distance, getting within a few meters of the Iron Bear’s line before he saw the bulbous mouth of a masterfully crafted plasma gun turn in his direction and fire. The last thing he saw was the searing light of failure, and then, nothing.

\*\*\*
Kozja walked the battlefield, his guards keeping a respectful distance but remained alert for any danger. Even though the Iron Bears had been defeated there were still pockets of resistance that could pose a threat. He stopped as he looked over a field littered with the bodies of Skandale who had been ordered to breach the defenses of the Bear’s right flank. They'd failed, but it hadn’t been a complete failure, as their attack had forced the Bears to redirect their forces to deal with the threat, enabling Kozja and his forces to breach the defenses on the left flank and take the position.

He knelt next to the headless body of a Skandale who’d made it further than any of his fellows, examining the melted ceramite of his collar. The body lay a mere three meters from the enemy line with his combat blade still clutched in his lifeless hand.

"Leave them," Kozja replied without inflection. "I will not have the stain of their failure sully the honor of this Legion by allowing others to don their armor or inherit their gene-seed. They are lost, forgotten...I damn them for their weakness."

- TheBlindPrimarch