Marcas Freikadan

Marcas entombed within Jahanam A'gosh

***Jahanam A'gosh*** a walking tomb for the ancient battle brother ***Marcas Freikadan*** who once called the legendary Imperial Fists his legion. Originally he fought for the great seventh legion but in the dawn of the 42nd millennium Marcas takes up arms in service of darker cause...The Foretoken. During his years with the Imperial Fists Marcas was greatly honoured to count himself part of the legendary band...the Templar Brethren, even fighting alongside them during those darkest of days that came to be known as The Siege of Terra. However, it was also during the Siege that the Templar Brethren Marcas Freikadan fell and the great dreadnought that would come to be known as Jahanam A'gosh rose in his place.

## History

House Orlock of Necromunda, the House of Iron, the gang in charge of of Hive Primus' iron supplies, the Ash Waste slag convoys, mining and even the Hive Cities Wild Snake alcohol distilleries. Within this legendary gang existed a female Road Sergeant and a male Wrecker, their names lost to the annals of time. Early within the 980s of M30 the Wrecker fell head over heals for the Sergeant and the pair soon started an intimate relationship. The relationship was by no means perfect but a few months later a new baby boy came into the world.

The early years of the child's life was by no means easy by any sense of the word. He grew up competing with bullies, tight resources, and parents who seemed to resent his very existence. The Boy had few friends and had to fight for everything he had and everything he wanted. However, at the age of eight something happened that might have changed his life forever...he finally became a Greenhorn in House Orlock. A rare occurrence for a child so young to be accepted into the gang but The Boy certainly deserved it. Both his parents where gangers by trade but even more so, by the age of eight The Boy had killed twice, and fought countless times more.

Over the next three years The Boy lived the life of a ganger, he was sent on errands, fought those that needed it, and killed those that deserved it. Furthermore, The Boy grew like a weed down there in the dark of the Underslums. By the age of ten he was already five foot five inches, and possessed a muscle mass that terrified his peers. These muscles, and his height, helped The Boy move up through the ranks quickly and at the age of eleven The Boy had become a full sworn Gunner of the gang. This rapid progression caught the eyes of another force aside from House Orlock. the yellow armoured demi-gods, who spent most of their time hid away in The Spire, descended to the Underslums with one goal...to bring The Boy to their Fortress.

From that Fortress The Boy was taken onboard a shuttle, up to orbit, onboard a voidship, and off into the galaxy...to the legendary Phalanx. The Boy spent the next seven years onboard the great mobile fortress-monastery and underwent experiences that would have destroyed a lesser boy...experiences that destroyed many of the lesser boys he entered the process with. However, by the end of it, in The Boys eighteenth year, he emerged from the Phalanx Marcas Freikadan; a yellow armoured brother of the Imperial Fists.

For the next twenty nine long years Marcas served as an Assault Marine across the galaxy. He fought countless battles against innumerable foes. DUring these twenty nine years Marcas met the Ya'war̃ Family, becoming bound to their numbers and moreover, some of the darkest years the Imperium had, or has, ever seen started...The Horus Heresy. During this dark time Marcas found himself fighting those he once called cousin, and time after time he was forced to kill the very same warriors. However, it was also during this time that Marcas proved himself time and time again.

He proved himself a capable warrior, often charging into combat alongside the vanguard, but also often being found holding an objective against whatever the Heresy threw at him. Time and time again Marcas was found standing guard over a goal even after the vast majority of his brothers had been cut down around him. However, the time when Marcas was said to have proved himself the most was during a great battle upon a planet known as Cinnte Alpha. He was part of a unit sent to retrieve an Imperial artifact from the clutches of the Word Bearers legion.

Marcas, as was expected, dove into combat headfirst and started to cut his way through his foe pushing towards the artifact. However, as he moved through the ranks Marcas' eyes were drawn towards the hulking figures of a terminator squad charging through the battlefield, practically running through Marcas' allies, towards a marine that Marcas knew well. A man that Marcas could identify even his HUD didn't pick him with a single abbreviation...CPT.

The Captain, and his honour guard, where engaged in fierce combat and seemed to be totally unaware of what was about to happen to them. While Marcas was aware he could have utilized his vox to alert the captain he also knew that the man couldn't turn his back on the fight he was currently engaged in. Instead Marcas instantly turned on the balls of his feet and gave a mighty burst of promethium that propelled him not up but forward. A great burst of speed that let him get to a sprint almost instantly. As he moved the man gave his Captain a warning of what was happening and wIthin a fraction of a seconds Marcas was upon the terminators and engaged in combat. His chainsword, and his bolt pistol, roared to life as he fought tooth and nail against five terminator marines. Marcas knew that he had no chance of besting the terminators, their weapons where to heavy and their armour too thick, but he knew he had to hold out long enough for the captain to best their foes.

He dodged, and countered. Power fist, lightning claws and roaring storm bolters narrowly missed his head but he was able to survive. The second ticked past as Marcas struggled to survive. However, survive he did, even managing to take one of them down, all the way until the captain's honour guard turned and slammed into the terminators to beat them down. After that fight Marcas started to fight alongside the captain until the battle ended and the Imperial Fists left the planet. Marcas actions within the battle further increased his reputation and even led to the captain rewarding him. While he may have brought Marcas into his Honour Guard its numbers were still full, so instead the captain put Marcas' name forward for an elite unit, a unit that would have been the greatest honour to be accepted for...The Templar Brethren.

It took months, and Marcas proving himself many more times, before he was finally accepted into the group. So finally, at the age of forty six, and after much training Marcas shed his yellow armour for the ebon black artificer armour of the order and was was brought into the Templar Brethren. When he joined their ranks Marcas was one of the youngest members and was certainly not welcomed with open arms, many felt he hadn't proved himself worthy of the order.

However, Marcas certainly proved himself skilled during the two years he served onboard the Phalanx. With a combat shield in one hand, a power sword in the other and a bolt pistol on his hip Marcas stood vigil over the legendary Temple of Oaths. Rarely deployed outside of the Phalanx, but when he was it was an elite veteran of his legion, Marcas slowly made a name for himself as a steadfast guard who never backed down. One of the times that Marcas was deployed alongside his brothers was in the fourteenth year of the millennium thirty one and would almost spell his doom.

The forces of Chaos were starting to advance upon Holy Terra and thus the Imperial forces were recalled to stage a defence. Among these recalled forces were the Imperial Fists, a number of the Templar Brethren and Marcas himself.

The bombardment, and subsequent assault, of the Imperial Palace was brutal and bloody. However, the Imperial forces didn't faulter, didn't run and didn't weaken as they fought tooth and nail against the seemingly endless waves of Traitors. Moreover, just like his brothers Marcas was pushed back through the Imperial palace towards the titanic Eternity Gate where the marines prepared to make a final stand. As is now recorded in the history books the Imperial Fists, Blood Angels, and the Emperor himself teleported to the Warmaster Horus' flag ship. However, Marcas would never make it to this glorious battle. Mere minutes before the Teleportation was undertaken Marcas found himself locked in combat with a marine of the Iron Warriors. The duel had bee waging for minutes when it was suddenly brought to a bone crushing end.

A mighty roar filled the auditory senses of the marines as the wall to their left practically exploded. The explosion threw titanic chunks of
stone and metal along with globs of plasma burning at hundred of thousands of degrees towards both the warriors. Instantly both marines pivoted in an attempt to dive for cover but the wall came down before they where able. What happened to the traitor marine Marcas doesn't know to this day. Did the wall crush him? Did the plasma melt him? Was he found by the loyalists and executed? What Marcas does know is what happened to him; he was heavily injured the moment the wall came down. His left arm was crushed by a titanic chunk of stone, almost as long as Marcas was tall, his right arm was severed off below the elbow by a falling I beam, his right leg was snapped clean off as it awkwardly twisted under his large frame, his lower left leg burnt away as it sat in a pool of burning plasma/lava, and plasma/lava slowly dripped down on his armour as he found himself stuck under the rubble. Dripping plasma that struck against his helmet, slowly heating it and burning the man beneath it.

Marcas remained trapped in that hellish rubble for two long weeks, relying on his Sus-an Membrane to stop him from being driven insane from the pain, the dark and the inability to move. However, eventually after those two hellish weeks Marcas was finally found by Imperial Forces who were scouring the battlefield. While he was heavily injured Marcas was just barely alive. Just alive enough to be granted the great honour of being entombed within a Contemptor Pattern Dreadnought...A dreadnought known as Brukanaz.

It was within this chassis that Marcas spent almost the next four millennium. Almost four thousand years during which Marcas slept, only awoken to give his wisdom, tell his tales, or to return to the Emperor's holy war. He was deployed to so many battles that even Marcas himself lost count within the yearly millenium of his interment. Slowly Marcas became a truly respected warrior of his chapter. He could be found standing guard in the Phalanx, striding across the battle field, telling tales to the newest recruits, and providing advice to the senior warriors. However, over the years whispers started to worm their way into Marcas' mind. Even as he slept vision started to slowly influence the man.

When was awoke one day, ready for battle and yearning to take to the field, Marcas found not the normal Techmarines and Apothecaries that normal welcomed him after being woken. Instead he found a group of almost fourteen marines...marines he soon learnt had experienced the same visions and whispers as he had. As a group the marines, and of course a single dreadnought, slowly made their way out of the Phalanx
and into the void. Thus at the age of 4,329 Marcas fell to the pull of Chaos.

For the next three hundred and ninety five years the group travelled through the galaxy searching otu a force who would accept them. It was also during this time period that Marcas inverted the colour scheme of Brukanaz and modified his personal heraldry. However, when Marcas was 4,724 years of age the group came under attack. They had been traveling through a seemingly abandoned hab-block when the ambush descended upon them; lasguns flared up, plasma guns threw bolts of superheated plasma, and heavy bolters roared into life. Among these weapons was found a Dark Mechanicum Tech-priest. Within seconds the surprise assault cut down almost all of Marcas' allies and the Tech-priest had been able to rendered him immobile.

That is how Marcas, and Brukanaz, fell into the hands of the cult and how Hell embraced Marcas once again. For decades Marcas was trapped within the cult's headquarters, his sarcophogus suspended as a trophy above the door to the great vaults. A once proud and unbreakable warrior reduced to little more than a decoration. However, he wasn't simply left above that door for the decades he remained with the cult. every few days he was taken down by the Tech-priest, and his lackeys, and dragged to the workshop. Within the smoke filled halls of the workshop Marcas was subjected to tests and experiments that almost broke him on many occasions. While at first they were conducted primarily on the sarcophagus, and Brukanaz, they slowly started to be undertaken on Marcas himself. While officially they were experiments and tests they were in truth little more than tortures. While the cult still held a small number of the other surviving marines the fact that Marcas was a dreadnought had clearly caught the Tech-priests gaze.

Eventually Marcas, and the remaining marines, were rescued from the cult. However, while they had thought their time with the Cult had been Hell they were only just about to learn the true meaning of Hell. Their rescuers were not loyalists, where not friendly Chaos marines, they were not even a rival cult who would treat the marines like demi-gods. The bad who rescued Marcas, and his brothers, where members of the dark and terrible eighth legion...The Night Lords. Within seconds the Night Lords had mercilessly slaughtered the cult and got what they came from. They had managed to obtain a handful of marines, and a living heresy era dreadnought.

The decades that Marcas had spent with the Cult paled in comparison to the millennium and a half that he was forced to endure with the Night Lords. While the Tech-priest "experimented" on him to gain information and knowledge the Night Lords did it for no other reason then they enjoyed it. His nails were ripped from his hands, his sasarcophagus was left open, with close attention paid to keep him alive and concious, to expose his raw nerves to the stinging air, and he was forced to watch with his biological eye as the remaining marines he called brothers were slowly tortured and eventually executed. Marcas was often left inside his dreadnought chassis while not being tortured. While he could feel his weapon's presence he had had his access torn away, a mental torture...he had the power to free himself but it was being dangled just out of his reach. A millennium and a half of torture during which he was kept constantly awake, in constant pain, and constantly pumped full of drugs to increase the impact of both. While over his 6,264 years of life Marcas had been able to keep a grip on his sanity the Night Lords knew just how to strip it away piece by piece and render Marcas insane. It was during this period of his life that the Jahanam A'gosh personality came into existance, his dreadnought became renamed, and the marines mind fractured.

However, it was during the end of this period that vivid visions came over Marcas. While at first he thought they were hallucinations or tricks by the Night Lords he soon came to understand they truly were visions from a being beyond this realm of existence. One day Jahanam A'gosh had taken control and thus Marcas sat screaming into the void as he tried to wrench control of his weapon systems back under his control. Through the red haze of rage Jahanam A'gosh was just able to make out five figures walking towards him...five figures he knew well. The marines who had made it their personal goal to torture Marcas as much as possible. Jahanam A'gosh screams increased to such an intensity they tore at his throat. The five mariens came closer, chuckling to each other as they started to plot their next bout of torture. Jahanam A'gosh however, continued to scream as a voice started to whisper to him..."Your time has come. Take what you deserve and I shall lead you to a force that will accept your rage". However, Jahanam A'gosh was so caught up in his rage he didn't even hear the voice. The only this he noticed was the three words that flashed on his HUD.

**All systems engaged.**

Without even a moments thought Jahanam A'gosh let out a bone chilling howl as he stepped forward and began to decimate the Night Lords. They had expected an evening of tortuous fun and were completely caught unaware by the sudden, and savage, brutality of the dreadnought. Jahanam A'gosh was yet to possess the weapons he would come known for and so his Jotun pattern dreadnought power fist lashed out, its integrated twinlinked bolter smashed through the Night Lords power armour within seconds, and his Kheres pattern assault cannon cut down countless marines, surfs and slaves with ease. The moment his systems engaged Jahanam A'gosh started to make his way forward. While a being of anger and crazed violence Jahanam A'gosh knew he couldn't take on the whole Night Lord bastion so he made his way towards a void capable ship, barely large enough to hold him, and out into the galaxy.

Within this voidship Marcas allowed the visions to guide him for six centuries across the galaxy, another six centuries without rest, and towards the Eye of Terror. Before he arrived Marcas once again met up with the Ya'war̃ Family, a family who while suspicious were still bound to him. The family once again fell into step with the dreadnought and soon even they fell to the corrupting touch of chaos. Within The Eye, and at the age of 6,864 Marcas came across the planet known as The Crimson Heart. A twisting corrupted planet controlled by a force known simply as The Foretoken. Approaching the wall of the fortress that shared its name with the plnet Marcas was informed although he was a Dreadnought he would still need to complete the hunt that all warriors of The Foretoken had to complete...he had to hunt and kill a Chimera

For a three days and three nights Marcas stalked his prey across the planet. Three days and three night without rest and continuously thudding forward across the planet towards his end goal. Finally he came across his target...a large chimera that was lolloping across the open plain towards him. Instantly Marcas turned to meet the beast and let his assault cannon roar to life. Many of the bolt skittered of the Chimera's dense flesh, and more so still appeared to simply pass straight through the beast. However, a small number managed to strike home and gently damage the surface of the beasts form.

Within seconds the Chimera was on top of Marcas and the titanic dreadnought was forced to fight close range. His assault cannon continued to roar as he passed it back and force trying to level it onto his target. However, a moment later the Chimera's titanic fangs clamped down on Marcas' arm, the teeth passing clean through both the arm and the weapon. A bolt of pain passed through the marines artificial nervous system as he tried to bring his other arm around. However, the Chimera was quicker still as it ripped the assault cannon and arm clean from the chassis and tossed it to the side. Marcas barely had time to bring his powerfist back to defend himself as the Chimera started to charge back towards him.

The Chimera darted forward before pouncing up towards Marcas seemingly in an attempt to force him to the ground and rip the dreadnought open. However, Marcas got lucky as his "upper body" pivoted and his power fist lasted out in a powerful punch...a punch that slammed into the side of the Chimera's head sending it sprawling to the ground. Resetting back to the centre Marcas brought his powerfist back and waited for the Chimera to attack once again. And attack it did. The beast charged forward but Marcas didn't stand and wait to receive the attack like he head prior. Instead the man started to scream as he forced his chassis into a sprint towards the beast...Jahanam A'gosh had taken control.

A moment later the pair, Chimera and Dreadnought, met in a mighty clash. The clash was so powerful that dust was thrown up around them, the thud echoed off the planet around them, and the very ground beneath them cracked. Moreover, Marcas' power fist rose upwards and clamped under the head of the chimera. A scream still tearing at his throat Jahanam A'gosh activated the fists in tegrated twinlinked bolter. A series of powerful explosions ripped through the Chimera's skull, practically blowing its head from off its neck.

With a chuckle growing in his throat Jahanam A'gosh reached down and clamped his fingers into the flesh of the beast and in a single solid movement ripped a large sheet of the Chimera's flesh from off its body. Returning to The Crimson Heart Marcas was welcomed into its venerated ranks. That victory was 4,194 years ago. 4,194 years that Marcas has spent walking the halls of The Crimson heart and fighting alongside The Foretoken.

During those four millennium much has changed within the galaxy and much has changed for Marcas himself. His mind has slowly degraded, as has his physical form. Moreover, his weapon were replaced, the dreadnought now carried a heavy conversion beamer and an assault drill with underslung bolter, and a system was intrigrated into his armour to lock it whenever Jahanam A'gosh took control. To this day however, Marcas walks the halls of The Crimson Heart a figure that commands both respect, fear, admiration, and suspicion...something he has taken in his stride.

## Appearance

### Former

Marcas was once a steadfast and unyielding man, a fact that was clearly evident by his appearance alone. Standing at a respectable 7'8" in height Marcas always held himself with an air of both honour, pride and a unwavering confidence in his brothers and in himself. Stocky of build, and possessing an impressive muscle mass that would make even a Fenrisian Cave Bear jealous, Marcas was truly an intimidating warrior even when he was simply standing guard over the Temple of Oaths.

Before that dark day Marcas had a head full of rich brown hair that, surprisingly for a member of his legion, he kept long. Gently waved the locks of brown hair could often be founded cascading down his neck when he went without helm. His eyes were a cold stone grey and possessed a fierce intensity that made many a menial shrink back from his gaze. However, the man eyes seemed to constantly be taking in all that they could and appeared to study everything that fell within their gaze. Marcas' face, while surprisingly young for a Templar Brethren, was scared by countless battles and grizzled far beyond its short years. His grizzled appearance gave the marine the look of a wise older brother who had proved himself time and time again...which he certainly had.

### Current

What little remains of Marcas skin, most having been burnt away by superheated globs of plasma, is now a deathly grey and sloughing away from what remains of his muscles. His left arm is a shrivelled and twisted horror as the limb had atrophied centuries ago and the right has been severed just below the elbow. When it comes to the man's legs they are equally as injured as his arms; the right leg is severed from the mid thigh, having been crushed off the body years ago, and the left from just below the knee, having been burnt away.

His once cool right eye is now nothing more than an empty missing socket. A socket through which the bare bone of his skull and a raw exposed optic nerve can be seen. Both his eyes are missing the lids forcing him to stare, unblinking through Jahanam A'gosh's sensors. His lips are partly missing, and what is left is burnt and scared. The nails of his remaining fingers are missing, torn from his flesh millennium ago. Now what little remains of his once glorious brown hair is now matted, and melted together. Marcas can now be found constantly connected to an intricate web of wires, pipes, cables and amniotic fluid that would make the warrior almost impossible to see even if it wasn't for his coffin's armour plating.

### Jahanam A'gosh

Jahanam A'gosh is as far removed from Marcas Freikadan's current state as his original is from a decayed corpse. A towering 14'10" behemoth of a machine Jahanam A'gosh is a beast of ceramite, shielding and heavy weaponry. Within mere seconds of being deployed Jahanam A'gosh is able to change the course of a battle and almost single handedly win many an encounter. Painted in an ebony black and vivid yellow livery has only small corrupted reminders of his previous legion; a corrupted version of the legion's emblem still found on his armour. However, unlike the marine entombed within in chassis Jahanam A'gosh is almost meticulously maintained and cared for. Accented in shining gold the dreadnought almost constantly rattled with ancient chains, thuds with aging bone, and rustles with skin stretched taut. While the most significant damage sustained by Jahanam A'gosh had been repaired much of the smaller damage remains...a sign and a reminder of great victories passed. The golden aquilla found on Jahanam A'gosh's chassis has been scared by two cuts forming an X...a reminder of Marcas' past loyalties.

Although Jahanam A'gosh is more ancient than most marines can even think of living to when deployed to battle it creates an imposing and trully terrifying figure. Bringing a heavy conversion beamer and an assault drill to bear in battle Jahanam A'gosh becomes a cloud of flame, anti-matter and roaring bolt rounds.

## Personality

Marcas possesses a dual personality, his mind shattering after eons of living through a Hell out of his control. While his personalities are one and the same being they are often referred to as Marcas and Jahanam A'gosh.

### Marcas

Marcas is a personality similar to the original marine who joined the Imperial Fists all those millennium ago. Noble, confident and headstrong Marcas is the first to speak his mind and the last to back down from a corse he believes in. However, over the years Marcas' personality has become slightly darker and the man more willing to kill if he feels it needed.

Marcas is not one to joke around, often described as serious and a touch morbid. Almost everyone he knew from his earlier life is dead and scattered to the wind and the thought that he will never meet them again certainly weighs heavily on his mind.

### Jahanam A'gosh

There is only one way to describe the Jahanam A'gosh personality...psychotic and fully insane. When this personality takes control of the marine there is little anyone can do to stop it. Jahanam A'gosh will slaughter anyone who get too close to him, will scream and howl threats, and will charge through walls simply because they are there. It is said that Jahanam A'gosh is the true personality of Marcas after he was driven to insanity by torture, pain and time and Marcas is a defence mechanism put in place by his mind to salvage some form of who the man is.

A system has been put in place within the Jahanam A'gosh dreadnought by both The Black Butcher and The Lord Smith. This system has been created to automatically detect when the Jahanam A'gosh personality takes control. The moment this is detected the system locks down the armour and disconnects all the sensors apart from the basic auditory and basic visual scanners. This leaves Marcas locked wherever he was standing simply there to scream into the darkness until Marcas takes control once more. The Commanding Officers of the Foretoken are able to disengage the system, or disconnect it all together, if and when it is needed. This is most often done during combat when Jahanam A'gosh's brutality is most welcomed.

## Abilities and Traits

The biggest and most obvious ability and trait of Marcas comes from the very fact that he is a Dreadnought. He is able to charge alone through gunfire that would turn a normal marine to a paste and emerge practically unharmed from the other side. Further increasing his durability Marcas' dreadnought chassis could be decimated but as long as his sarcophagus, and the man inside, remains alive the dreadnought will continue to fight for The Foretoken. Moreover, due to his increased strength and stability Marcas is able to carry some of the heaviest individual weapons the Imperium has to bear. His Assault Drill can tear a wall apart, its Flamer and Bolter can decimate bunkers of people and his Heavy Conversion Beamer can obliterate almost anything as the very atoms of its targets implode.

Moreover, Marcas has lived lifetimes longer than a normal marine and has seen more battles than almost any member of the Foretoken. It is due to this that he, like many normal marines, is tasked with carrying the stories of the Foretoken and helping them in strategy and tactics. However, when Jahanam A'gosh is unleashed Marcas becomes a true force of nature that can charge through walls, break apart bulkheads and flip battle tanks with ease.

## Gifts of Chaos

* **The Ya'war̃ Connection** - Marcas has been blessed with the ability to connect to any member of the Ya'war̃ family who possesses "The Ya'war̃ Connection" mutation.
* **Increased Speed** - Marcas is a dreadnought, often a lumbering behemoth that sacrifices speed for strength and armour. However, the dark gods have blessed Marcas with an increase in speed that allows him to almost sprint...traveling at almost twelve miles per hour

## Equipment

### Armour

* **Contemptor Pattern Dreadnought**
	+ **75mm of Angled Ceramite Armour**
	+ **Atomantic Shielding**

### Used Weapons

* **Heavy Conversion Beamer**
* **Assault Drill**
	+ **Interior Heavy Flamer**
	+ **Underslung Bolter**

### Equipment

* **Smoke Grenade Launcher**
* **Search Light**

## Relations

### Friends/Allies

* **Kam Ya'war̃ - Cupbearer**
* **Ya'war̃ Family - Assistant Family**
* **The Foretoken**
* **Chaos**
* **Chaos Undivided**

### Rivals/Enemies

* **The Imperium**
* **Imperial Fists**
* **House Orlock**

## Quotes

### By:

"*If you lay a finger, or harm a hair, on a member of the Ya'war̃ I will personally rip you asunder and drag what's left to the darkest forgotten cell of the dungeon and I will...enjoy...every...moment*"
—Marcas Freikadan threatening a marine he overheard threatening a member of the Ya'war̃ family.

## Gallery

A surcoat worn by every member of the Ya'war̃ familyThe Coat of Arms of the Chaos Dreadnought once known as Marcas Freikadan