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This article, Starblades, was written by Nurglegang77. Please do not edit or 'acquire' this fiction without the writer's permission. |
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This article, Starblades, is currently under active construction. The author, Nurglegang77, apologizes for the inconvenience. |
- "RIP AND TEAR! LET NONE SURVIVE THE EMPERORS FLAME!!"
- — motto of the Starblades.
Among the countless Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, there is one whose very existence defies logic, purity, and law, yet endures through silence and slaughter. The Starblades are a chimeric abomination, a gene forged monstrosity born of desperation and secrecy. Fashioned from the bloodlines of Sanguinius the Angel and Angron the Butcher, they are a mistake the Imperium will never admit, but cannot afford to destroy. A cocktail of nobility and madness, of divine wrath and unrelenting rage, the Starblades are not warriors of honor, they are predators of the void, tearing through friend and foe alike in a crimson haze. Some call them the Emperor’s Scourge. Others, the Void Wretches. But all who know their name speak it with dread, and only in passing.
The Codex Astartes holds no sway over them, Guilliman’s laws are as nothing beneath their iron heels. Their chainblades scream through cities, not battlefields. Their war cries are not declarations, but howls of lunacy, echoes of the Butcher’s Nails twisted with the anguish of the Black Rage. From Sanguinius, they inherited the curse of visions, but twisted, seeing not doom, but ecstasy in annihilation. From Angron, they inherited pain as a language, rage as a sacrament. They do not conquer in the Emperor’s name, they erase, without command or reason. Entire worlds have gone dark without a single transmission. No survivors, no ships, no life. Only scorched crust and silence. The Inquisition has made inquiries, purges, and quiet assassinations, but always they find nothing. No gene deviation. No cultic behavior. Only compliance in its coldest, most literal form, "threat eliminated.”
And so, the Starblades persist. Not because they are trusted, nor revered, but because they are effective. When the Imperium faces the inexplicable, when the tides of the warp spill too far, when xenos infestations rot entire systems, someone in the darkest chambers of Terra inevitably reaches for the name they dare not speak aloud. The Starblades are unleashed, not deployed. They arrive without herald, fight without formation, and leave without trace. They are not defenders of humanity. They are what humanity becomes when stripped of soul, restraint, and meaning. They are the sin that keeps the Imperium breathing. A paradox in power armor. A butcher's knife in a surgeon’s hand. A mistake too deadly to undo.
Tale of the Red World[]
- "空は真っ黒に燃えた
鐘が鳴った。
彼ら自身の遺伝子から生まれた章によって虐殺された人々.
世界は永遠に赤く染まった。
そして、永遠に呼び求める人は誰もいなかった."- — Tale of the Red World, Translation: "The sky burned black. The bell rang. Those slaughtered by chapters born of their own genes. The world was dyed red forever. And there was no one to call on forever."
Chapter History[]
The history of the Starblades is a tattered corpse—gutted, burned, and scattered across time. What little remains is kept buried in vaults few dare to open, if they still exist at all. What was not deliberately destroyed was left to rot in obscurity, as if the very knowledge of their creation was poison. Yet not all was consumed by the blade or buried by the weight of denial. Scraps survive, fragments whispered by terrified adepts, smuggled from the mouths of dying inquisitors or carved into the walls of void-derelicts found orbiting dead suns. They tell of a Chapter born in silence, not celebration. When the first drop of their chimeric gene-seed was tested, there were no cries of triumph, no declarations of loyalty—only a stillness that suffocated the room. Those present could not explain it. They only felt that something had gone terribly, irreversibly wrong.
The gene-seed was an atrocity in itself. A fusion of Sanguinius’ angelic legacy and Angron’s cursed fury, grafted together by minds desperate enough to gamble with damnation. From Sanguinius, the Starblades inherited the nobility of vision, but it came twisted and blackened. Their dreams were not of hope or martyrdom, but of carnage and exultation in death. From Angron, they received rage unending, but with none of the binding chains of brotherhood or purpose. It was not the curse of one Primarch they bore, but the entirety of both, amplified beyond reason. Their minds frayed with each passing decade, their flesh hardened by constant war, their very souls locked in a struggle between divine sorrow and blind, howling hatred. They were not spared flaws, they were forged from them.
Their homeworld, if it can be called that, was a fetid hive-world, nameless now, long purged from Imperial records. A world of choking smog, bleeding industry, and ceaseless crime, it was chosen not for redemption but as fuel. When the first Company returned from deployment, the Starblades turned their wrath inward. The planet became a crucible of blood. Sirens wailed as the population screamed, but no salvation came. Bells tolled through the rusted spires as the Chapter's boots fell in thunderous rhythm. What followed was not a purge, but a massacre. The Starblades slaughtered everything with a pulse, ganger, enforcer, child, priest and left the world bathed in arterial red. Only the strongest were spared, and only to be bred like cattle to birth more violent, more durable stock. From that day forward, the world was no longer a hive, it was a forge of monsters.
Since then, the Starblades have served with a loyalty that terrifies as much as it reassures. They do not falter in battle, for they do not recognize fear. They do not hesitate, because hesitation requires conscience. When the Primaris initiative spread across the Imperium, the Starblades refused it entirely. They saw no purity in it only dilution. They remained Firstborn, not out of tradition, but contempt. Even now, they continue to spill blood in the Emperor’s name, though many whisper it is no longer the Emperor they see in their blood slicked visions. They skirt the abyss, walking a razor thin line between sanctioned atrocity and open heresy. They are the Imperium’s necessary sin, wielded when annihilation is the only answer. And they will keep fighting, keep killing, until either the galaxy dies or they do.
the red vow[]
hidden amongst dozens upon dozens of logs, scrolls, and ancient texts- buried so deep within history is the origin of the starblades, within those dark days of the horus heresy exist a name- no, a thing, the only evidence of the starblades origin, the red vow, a massive contingent of blackshields of both world eaters and blood angels descent- these astartes were not as disciplined as their descendant chapter, born from the 109th company of the world eaters, an exceedingly loyal force of astartes- the 109th would be left few in number after being mostly purged, leaving behind merely a few apothecaries, and some damaged geneseed- the apothecaries would soon after make it off as blackshields- and would take off into the stars, during this period- they would go around, attempting to requisition whatever they could to replenish their numbers- to no avail, and after solar months of nothing- they would find their chance. finding their solace in an outpost world of the blood angels that had been abandoned after being sieged- the remnants of the 109th would find their chance- taking the geneseed and using it to make up for the horrid condition of their geneseed, the first starblades were born.
and on that day, seijuro, the starblades future chapter master, was born, too large, too mentally unstable- he was presumed dead on the spot soon after implantation, the newly born seijuro would awaken soon after, accompanied by various other poorly made hybrid astartes, the 109th would welcome seijuro and his newly born contingent of unnatural astartes- and so, the red vow was born. a force of pure world eaters and proto-starblades, many of them were horridly unstable, their geneseed made them stronger, even superior to the starblades of now, but they were unstable- many would be blown to pieces from the volatility of their own genes, or simply died because they fell to chaos out of desperation, and were ensuingly dismembered, but amongst all else- the red vow remained, harvesting stock from devastated hive worlds, and utilizing evermore forbidden methods- the Chymeriae warband of the red vow would fight with unwavering loyalty, they fought with forbidden weapons- overclocked thunder hammers, colossal chain weapons, and ramshackle power weapons- these starblades had poor armor, they were simply too large- power armor could not fit them, so they would turn to freeing forge worlds for the time being in order to become more heavily armed, and they would then pursue terra, a race against time before their genes tore them apart, and before the traitors made it there first.
mere minutes after the traitors arrived, the red vow made landfall, crashlanding upon terra in a rain of massive drop pods. 300 colossal astartes of the red vow emerged, accompanied by various loyalist world eaters. yet they had landed straight in the claws of the world eaters, surrounded, and outnumbered- the red vow were forced to fight, cleaving through hordes of heretic astartes and relentlessly firing, the red vow held their ground for multiple hours, but without the gear the loyalists had- even with their greater strength, they began to fall- one by one- for every few world eaters, another one of those colossal, mutated astartes would fall- until finally, by the end of the siege- 30 members of the red vow broke free, wounded, bloodied, but still alive, they would be held to some degree of glory- as heroes, unwaveringly loyal despite the circumstances, soon after this, seijuro would be interred in a dreadnought- presumably due to severe injury. and after an unknown amount of time- the starblades would be reformed from the remnants of the red vow, and the rest, was history.
Notable Campaigns[]
Chapter Homeworld[]
The homeworld of the Starblades, the Red Planet is little more than a malignant husk, a festering scar upon the void. Once vast mining complexes now stand as grotesque breeding pits, where the most violent of the Starblades’ stock are brought into the world. There, whelps are suckled on a vile mixture of milk and alchemical stimulants until they mature into wretched beasts wearing the semblance of men, monstrous progeny fit only to birth more of their kind. Some are taken to swell the ceaseless tide of their distant kin, while others are left to age in filth, their bodies hardened and twisted to sire ever stronger, ever more brutal generations. Within those cavernous vaults of rotten blood, they linger, feeding on offal, intestines, and the butchered limbs cast into the endless ocean of gore that is their inheritance.
The surface of the Red Planet is a charnel mire, mottled with the congealed lifeblood of the countless fallen. Vast oceans of rancid gore spread from horizon to horizon, swollen with organs and bone fragments drifting like carrion flotsam. Crumbling spires of metal and meat jut from this corrupted mire, their foundations rising from crimson, flesh like mud. Mutilated cadavers are bound upon chains, their lungs torn through their backs to resemble angels of despair, hanging in grotesque parody. Those whelps who endure the torment of the breeding pits are cast upward to these spires, granted a semblance of human existence—brief, fearful, and ultimately futile. Here, cramped chambers of rust and filth breed only decay, their floors layered in human refuse. Infection festers freely, but no hand moves to cleanse or to heal, for life on the Red Planet is but a slow march toward consumption.
Labor camps scar the land, vast pits where slaves are driven to ceaseless toil beneath the whip and the iron gaze of their masters. Here, men, women, and the broken remnants of xenos work until their bodies fail, collapsing into the filth without reprieve. The air is thick with the stench of rot, tar, and burning oil, suffocating those still breathing. In these pits, machines of war are forged in silence, while veins of rare ore are dredged from the depths, feeding the endless hunger for conquest. Corpses accumulate swiftly in these camps, discarded without thought. Their remains are ground to pulp and poured into the endless oceans of blood, their final service to the abominable cycle of the Red Planet.
Yet for all its corruption, the Red Planet is not undefended. Its surface bristles with guns the size of cathedrals, iron cannons and macabre war-engines wrought from bloodstained steel. Hordes of mortal soldiery infest its trenches, while warbands of Starblade Astartes stalk the rusted halls, their armor slick with the gore of countless victims. Outposts spread across the surface, set between forges, labor pits, and the cavernous breeding pens, each a fortress of misery. Within these bastions, the Starblades dwell in mockery of nobility, feasting amid throngs of broken slaves both human and alien. Shrines defile every chamber and corridor, their altars devoted not to gods, but to relics of slaughter, ancient weapons and fallen warriors exalted with offerings of skulls and flayed flesh. Here, the Red Planet thrives in its blasphemy, a bastion of butchery in a galaxy already drowned in blood.
Fortress-Monastery[]
In the festering crater where once stood the mightiest hive city of the Red Planet now rises a monolith to corruption, the Hellstar. This abominable fortress-monastery looms as a colossal amalgam of ancient technology, desecrated architecture, and steel drenched in unholy ornament. Its silhouette is a forest of pagoda-like towers, their tiers draped with flayed hides and rotting organs, trophies of a thousand butchered victims. From every parapet, obscene coils of cabling writhe downward, slick with blood and noxious effluvia, as though the structure itself were alive and weeping. Encircling this profane citadel stand jagged walls formed of countless layered plates of iron and bone, bristling with plasma arrays and siege cannons. This outer ring, known among the Starblades as the Nova’s Skin, seethes with activity. Serfs, thralls, and servitors crawl along its battlements like insects, while Astartes patrol the iron causeways, their vigilance broken only when the tolling of war calls them forth.
At the heart of this abomination rises the cloistered mass of the Hellstar, a central tower vast beyond comprehension. From its blackened bulk erupt spires of gilded steel and monstrous pylons, stabbing into the heavens like the talons of some god beast. Gilded archways and encrusted panels line its surface, mocking the artistry of long-dead artisans with their bloodstained magnificence. Above this cursed citadel juts a multi-pointed crown, a lattice of colossal pylons forming the generator-array of the Hellstar’s void shield. This shimmering dome growls like a caged predator, its surface alive with snarling arcs of power. Along its flanks, stabilizing bastions rise like tumors, their heights burdened with chains from which swing the corpses of thousands—mute chimes tolling in the poisonous wind.
Beneath this vaulted abomination, in the shadowed arteries of the Hellstar, lies the wretched domain of the Red Planet’s citizenry. Crushed between barracks, mortar batteries, and watchtowers, they scuttle like vermin through labyrinths of slums and dripping sewers. Here they eke out their pitiful existence, praying never to draw the gaze of their masters. To be noticed is to be unmade, dragged screaming into the laboratories of the Starblades, vivisected for their amusement, or grafted into machinery as living components of the war-machine. The fortress’s grotesque sprawl is no idle display of terror, however. For from the highest reaches of the Hellstar, where the great arterial cables converge, rests its most dreadful weapon: a relic-cannon of unfathomable scale. Its barrel glows with baleful crimson light, swiveling slowly as it tracks the void. Any vessel that dares approach the Red Planet is scoured from existence in moments, torn apart by the Hellstar’s wrathful breath—a reminder to the galaxy that the Starblades’ dominion is absolute, and their hatred without end.
Within the festering belly of the Hellstar lies the carrion-warren of the Starblades. Dozens upon dozens of shrines, sepulchral halls, and armouries coil like veins through the ancient machine-flesh of that abominable fortress. At its deepest pit, entombed in the Hellstar’s rancid guts, broods the Librarium. Walls of blackened steel are lined with crumbling tomes and flayed parchments, each bound in seals of wax and skin. Hordes of servo skulls drift soundlessly through the gloom, their eye-lenses burning faint and mournful, while lobotomized servitors scrawl tirelessly upon endless scrolls. Here lie campaigns written in blood, half rotted fragments of the Chapter’s hidden history, and blasphemous treatises penned in defiance of the Throne. The floor itself is a gold-stained mosaic, thick with sigils and sacrificial seals, yet beneath it lies something fouler still: relics, weapons, and engines steeped in daemon-filth, shackled by profane machines that the Chapter’s librarians, when not drenched in war, must eternally tend. The Librarium is more than a vault, it is a ritual hall, where sorcery is muttered in tongues older than man’s empire, and where champions are anointed with ornaments forged from the sins of countless worlds.
At the maw of the Hellstar sprawls the Great Hall, a cavernous abattoir of devotion and dread. Dozens of effigies leer from the shadows, statues wrought not of stone, but of bone and rusted brass, their frames hung with flayed flesh and dripping gore. Towering pillars, spined and barbed, ascend into a darkness lost to sight. At the chamber’s heart lies the Starblades’ accursed sigil, etched into the ground in burning brass and perpetually slick with sacrificial blood. Scarlet rivulets course into crystal conduits beneath the flooring, winding like arteries through the hall to paint the ground in alternating hues of blood, red and corpse blue. From the ceiling dangle rust chains by the thousand, some swinging incense burners heavy with ash, others burdened with the half living husks of the flayed. The walls are alive with shifting patterns of gold, wire, and cabling that seem to crawl of their own accord. It is here the Starblades gather, before a throne of skulls and steel, wires writhing like serpents about its base, where their Chapter Master, an idol of flesh and machine, sits in judgment of all beneath him.
Above these crypts of filth roar the forges and armouries, a labyrinth of endless industry and choking fumes. Here the walls shriek with the hiss of machines, mechadendrites slithering like serpents of iron through the smog. Techmarines stalk the platforms like priests of some forgotten cult, flanked by armies of servitors whose bodies are nailed into unending service. Endless racks of weaponry line sterile halls, their metal darkened by centuries of blood and rust. Servo skulls flit between the racks, selecting instruments of murder at the call of their masters. No blade here gleams without stain, no bolter leaves without the memory of slaughter burned into its frame. The forges groan with a deeper horror still, vast chambers drowned in black smoke, where molten metal and screaming flesh are made one. Prisoners and slaves are dragged here in endless processions, their bodies grafted into the machines or crushed beneath them, their souls unremarked, as forgotten as dust upon the void.
And yet fouler still are the chambers of the Apothecarion. At first glance, it is a sanctum of cold precision marble-blue walls, surgical tables, and racks of sacred tools. Here brothers are carved open and sutured, wounds sealed with augmetics and gene grafts. But such façade is a lie. Beneath these clean floors lie the laboratories, the true heart of the Apothecarion. Here, the Starblades perform acts that would shame even the haemonculi of Commorragh. Prisoners of the red world, captives from raids, and the wretched survivors of war are dragged into dungeons rank with rot and iron. They are dissected, torn apart and rebuilt in grotesque forms. Tumors bloom, bones splinter, organs are torn free and replaced with crude, rusted abominations, all in pursuit of knowledge profane. Few survive such torment, and those who do are catalogued, branded, and discarded—living testaments to the Starblades’ black artifice. Whispers speak of projects beyond even the infamy of the Night Lords, schemes so vile they defy comprehension, conceived not by men but by monsters who once called themselves Angels of Death.
Chapter Organisation[]
One would not be wrong to assume the Starblades were disorganised, weak, even- but in truth, that cannot be further from the truth- the Starblades are actually very well organised, keeping a strict doctrine and tightly held order, allowing them to hold if pure rage does not reign supreme. where Guilliman's Codex split apart the legions, the Starblades very easily saw the holes in such, and refused to abide by it- for to stretch their forces so thin would be to essentially invite mankind's foes to slaughter them- and that, they cannot allow to pass, not without a fight atleast.
Officer Ranks[]
- Nobori-maru - The Nobori-maru are the standard bearers of the Starblades, wielders of the Starblades' blood-soaked banners, they are not just there to indicate where they should hold their position, but also to keep their morale up- often in the form of violently severing a heretics head from his body, and displaying it atop one of the many spikes dotting said banner. where they walk, trails of blood follow, their armor is also decorated with pitch-black stripes, and various kanji, signifying their role as the Starblades executioners, and the defenders of their morale, in a way.
- Nikuya no senchō - The Nikuya no senchō or in simple low-gothic- butcher-captain, are the leaders of one of the 5 companies- or as they are called in the Starblades- clans, each of these foul butchers command an aura of fear at all times, keeping slaves in line, and those foul mutts of chaos on chains. they are not just the most experienced, but the most violent of their company- more than willing to tear foes apart into thick rivulets of gore, all the while cackling like madmen as they drink the thick flood of gore. to achieve the title of Nikuya no senchō is to fell dozens with no mercy, to rip their children apart before their eyes. to fill the oceans with blood- to turn every last world red. each and every one of the foul butcher-captains are clad in thick, almost entirely brass armor- thick with rust, and blood- rotten and grotesque down to their very core.
- Inferunopurīsuto - Within the annals of the Starblades- the Inferunopurīsuto or inferno-priest are the chaplains of the Starblades, charged with maintaining morale, spirit, and the flame of the chapter, and the flame part is in the most literal sense- wreathed in burning pyres of promethium, and wielding flaming weapons, the Inferunopurīsutos armor is coated in skulls and charred flesh- where they walk, the ground is scorched, and rather than a simple Crozius- they are often equipped with a massive chainaxe, engraved with a massive aquilla- with burning teeth, to sear the flesh of the heretic. the dozens of flame-wreathed priests of the Starblades moving in formation often obliterates the morale of any enemy that sees it- and amplifies the morale of the Starblades ever so much more.
Specialist Ranks[]
- Tenpesutosupōn - The Tenpesutosupōn or tempest spawn are the librarians of the Starblades- arrayed in various devices and unique implants to keep their psychic powers under tight wraps, wielding massive force weapons often in sword or axe form- the Tenpesutosupōn are a terror in melee combat, calling upon the powers of the aether to cleave through flesh as if it was naught but expired corpse-starch in the wind- their psychic practice is much alike to the fell powers of those sorcerers dedicated to the dark gods- how exactly the Starblades have cracked open such a secret to immense psychic power is unknown- but it clearly isn't daemonic, for horrid corruption does not show.
- kanshi-tec - The horrid, rotten, and boiled-over kanshi-tec are no mere techmarines- whilst they are the Starblades' equivalent, they are far worse than such, they know every last bit of how to bring out maximal pain within every last living being- how to prolong death and pain the longest, and how to make the most obscene of machines- these horrid techno-cultists are most infamous for their ability to put the pain on even daemons- shredding their warp-essence apart or using their torment and energy to feed machines, slowly killing the daemon in the process, or leaving it in a state too weak for it to fight back when it does break free- the kanshi-tec are often equipped with various torture devices and other abhorrent attachments, so that they are not even one step away from reducing a renegade to a screaming, crying mess. the kanshi-tec are also especially well-versed in machinery, and while there are not as many of them as expected- they make up for it 5 times over by just being BETTER in machine-craft.
- Kuro no nikuya - The Kuro no nikuya are the apothecaries of the Starblades- much alike to the kanshi-tec, in that both are less common than one would think- but more experienced- able to fix up extreme injuries, and often can substitute a lost limb for a vat-grown copy, or one taken straight from a corpse, and preserved. the Kuro no nikuya also serve as horrid brutes when needed, able to cleave apart everything in their way reliably to get geneseed off the planet. but beyond that- their foul, abhorrent natures comes into full view- they are master experimenters, horribly grafting unfortunate xenos together- or performing biotechnological studies- for the express purpose of making bioweapons, or punishing prisoners who disobey orders. these experiments range from not that far from becoming a servitor- to becoming a shambling, bloated mass of tumors, organs deformed, on the verge of bursting free- but never doing so.
- Tetsu no Oni - The centurions of the Starblades- the Tetsu no Oni are beasts of thick battle-plate, and raw strength in its most defined form, the Tetsu no Oni are clad in severely modified centurion exoskeletons, sporting thick, layered plating oh-so iconic of the Starblades. these heavy-duty titans sere as the shock troops of the Starblades, ensuring no foe leaves in one piece. these brutal beasts are grafted with various cybernetic implants to bring out their inner animal, creating a horrifying beast better described as a wall rather than something humanoid.
- Shokeinin no Dōshi the Shokeinin no Dōshi- Or executioner-adept- are a very clear-cut, and obvious parallel to the master of executions, clad in the bones of dozens of heretics and innocents alike- these horrid Starblades wield some of the heaviest of handheld starblade weaponry- and always go for the head when they dismember their foes. dragging along colossal chain-odachis soaked in guts, and constantly foaming out the mouth in pure rage, these absolute brutes live for blood, and when a heretic must be executed, they are always eager, and always hungry.
Line Ranks[]
- Shogun - Standard astartes equivalent.
- Serfs
- Servitors
Specialist Units & Formations[]
The Starblades do not use a specific fixed list of formations, instead following an average formation of melee in the front, ranged at the back, and when needed, they will shift into whatever formation is needed, occasionally shifting into formations like the spear used by the sons of horus- and others. beyond such there is not very much notable here, its extremely simple above all else.
Order of Battle[]
The hordes of the Starblades generally follow the same order of battle as the blood angels, the exception being it comes with some elements of the world eaters, the result? hordes of astartes flooding forth like horrid zombies, ripping off limbs whilst unloading bolter fire into the face some unlucky foe.
Headquarters[]
| Chapter Command | ||||
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| Armoury | Reclusium | Apothecarium | ||
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| Librarius | Fleet Command | Logisticiam | ||
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Clans[]
The Starblades have been known to in reality have 5 massive clans, rather than the basic companies- each clan easily dwarves a company many times over- making up for the nigh-nonexistent strategy of the Starblades with pure numbers- were one to look inside, they would very quickly found out the Starblades are most certainly not just a thousand marines- with the size of chapter command and the clans in general- it could very well be in the tens of thousands, but no claims of such can truly stick, and the Starblades always insist its a smaller number- at best maybe the same as the black templars, but of course, this is a lie. the chapters are as follows:
clan kurogane - kurogane is the central clan of the starblades- clad in the iconic colour scheme of the starblades, with no changes- kurogane excel at siege warfare, and general heavy assault- wielding colossal odachis or chain weapons too massive for any normal astartes to lift- clan kurogane are famed for their brutal, and merciless nature, and abundance of techmarines, kurogane have the most technology in their hands, and the highest abundance of terminators, and heavy units. kurogane are the backbone of the starblades, ensuring the annihilation of every last fortress, and beast. kurogane have a massive advantage over machines and beasts- and as though the warp has chosen to entertain this- clan kurogane has a massive tally of daemon engines and tyranid beasts slain. clan kurogane are represented by the maidate seen on their heads, which has resulted in their nickname: the crimson ronin. clan kurogane are generally the strongest and most durable of the starblades- relying not on speed, but pure, brute strength, and attrition. clan kurogane are also the most loud of the starblades- screaming with laughter constantly, and have been observed to get drunk very often, due to clan kuroganes tendencies to host massive contests to see who can drink the most.
- "we are the shield of the imperium. eternal. unfeeling. absolute."
- — common clan kurogane chant.
- Clan Haretsu - haretsu are the 2nd clan of the starblades, specializing in assault, these astartes are primarily clad with jump packs, or riding on heavily armoured assault bikes- clad in a faintly blueish power armor covered in crimson stripes- haretsu are much alike to the butchers of the world eaters- and one would not be wrong to assume such- these astartes are described as mere streaks as they rapidly move towards the enemy- flying off cliffs, or suddenly appearing by exploding through the torso of some unlucky foe, clan haretsu are the fastest of the starblades, often recognized by the Sandogasa and oni-like helmets they don. clan haretsu are the most brutal of the starblades, possessed with a sadistic, emotionless disposition unlike the foul frenzy of other clans. haretsu primarily remain silent until deployed to battle, sitting in constant prayer before shrines, or always honing their weapons.
- "彼らは何も気づかなかった、そしてそれが彼らの破滅を招いた。"
- — Clan haretsu member commenting on a mission. translation:They never noticed a thing, and that spelt their doom.
- clan Kogeru - clan kogeru are the most manic of the starblades- possessed by a horrid rage and a lust for flame, clan kogeru are the range and defense specialists of the starblades- unloading upon their foes with bolters that screech with flame- clan kogeru wear half-black half-gold armor, often modified to include pyres of burning flames. clan kogeru, when required, can plant themselves firmly on a position when needed- forming massive shield walls whilst raining flaming blasts upon the imperium's enemies, ripping foes to pieces in flaming rains of gore. clan kogeru are known to be the most accurate of the starblades, able to snipe foes from immense distances. it has been observed, that when needed, clan kogeru can build fortresses, if fortification is needed. a member of clan kogeru is recognised by the massive horns emerging from his helmet, which are covered in gold rings, and the tusked visage of his helmet.
- "the bolt kills the body- the flame kills the soul!"
- — Clan kogeru devastator.
- clan Keibetsu - clan keibetsu are some of the most extreme of the starblades, and the chapters foul honour guard, clad in pure white armor decorated with deep crimson, clan keibetsu are one of the smallest clans, but are one of the strongest in of themselves- clad in the relic terminator armor the starblades own, many parallels have been drawn between keibetsu and its possible origin- the horrific red butchers of the world eaters, clan keibetsu are feral, but not nearly as mad as their ancestor astartes, these abhorrent space marines are clad in an unknown pattern of terminator armor, which is slower, but even more durable and strong than other modern patterns. clan keibetsu often wield some of the most brutal weapons in the starblades arsenal, including weapons like the Excoriator Chainaxe and various other foul weapons to maximise brutality. there is no subtlety or silence to this clan- only a constant roar of rage that deafens all else. clan keibetsu are nicknamed the black death. a putrid horde of monstrosities that even in their rage maintain an immense amount of skill- and through this rage, they remain somehow loyal.
- "KILL! RIP! TEAR! BLOOD!!"
- — common keibetsu warcry.
- clan Kiruzōn the 5th clan- Kiruzōn are the brutal shock troops of the starblades- descending from drop pods, and appearing from massive tides of blood and ash, this clan favors experimental, often baroque, and immoral weaponry- clan Kiruzōn also are masters of the hunt, pursuing their foes with a ferocity more like a member of some ancient tribe, clan Kiruzōn are unmatched in not just their ability to sneak up on their foes- but also pure skill in melee combat, whereas the other clans rely on their physical specialties, whilst putting skill more to the side, Kiruzōn are raw skill, able to quickly turn the tide on a chaos space marine if underestimated. many of clan Kiruzōn often don more stripped back or heavy armor, either to outspeed their foe with ease, or to simply outdo their foe with raw durability combined with this skill. clan Kiruzōn are also the most abundant of the clans, and are the first to respond to a threat at all times.
- "From the shadows, we strike down the heretic dogs!"
- — clan Kiruzōn motto.
Chapter Beliefs[]
The Starblades have a grotesque hybrid culture of the blood angels, and the world eaters, creating their extremely abnormal, and downright worrying culture. they believe first and foremost that the codex and generally bowing down to organizations like the inquisition is a heresy worse than turning to chaos- its been known the Starblades have a tendency to dismember sisters of battle or mutilate inquisitors who grow too big for their own boots- resulting in many a conflict before. the Starblades also generally follow a doctrine of no mercy in general, and believe that everything should be ruled under a fist of iron- resulting in the horrid living conditions of Starblades-owned worlds, where the streets drown in blood and refuse, where people are dismembered for so much as existing, made an example of so the people on these worlds grow timid, afraid. the result is a nonexistant crime-rate.
The Starblades venerate the art of massacre above all else- to defile the flesh of the heretic, to splay their viscera across the stars, for they believe the coward has no sanctity of flesh- that they have all rights to be torn apart, and hung up, flayed, organs torn free and hanging in a macabre display of savagery. far worse, however- is the veneration of cannibalism the Starblades very clearly have, feasting upon the flesh of their victims- sinking their rancid teeth into the bodies of screaming hive gangers, or tearing apart heretic astartes, sawing through ceramite to sink their teeth into the rancid flesh, their art of mutilation and slaughter is done with the method of a butcher cleaving apart meat, rather than sloppy, and quick.
The Starblades generally believe that amongst ell else- they are superior, the best, even- and their bloated egos are only further fed by their size, and the fact those few that have actually really dared to openly oppose them, tend to either be all-incompetent, or a filthy heretic, perhaps even just too pathetic to be notable at all, eitherway, for they will all end up chaff for the Starblades' brutal meatgrinder, reduced to a gory mass that paints the ground in beautiful tapestries of red.
In their own twisted way, however, the rotten Starblades have their sense of honor- able to respect an opponent who fights one-on-one, no cheating, no nothing- just using their arsenal as best as they can, as morally and possibly spiritually corrupted the Starblades are- they maintain such honor, often dubbed bushidō in reference to the ancient samurai code of old- albeit in this case, it extends to only war, and combat, for the Starblades have little time for oh-so foreign, evermore alien concept known as "peace"
traditions of the Starblades[]
Amongst the Starblades, there are various unique traditions- taken from the deep gladiatorial pits of their monastery, and the deepest depths of nuceria, resulting in the inquisitions constant ire, due to the nature of these traditions, leaving an extremely uneasy air around the grey-armoured astartes.
- Black Hand - The Black Hand is a common tradition amongst the Starblades- denoting an immense achievement. a handprint of blackened tar is imprinted upon the body, primarily around the torso or faceplate, often mixed in with small droplets of blood, and allowed to dry- the black hand is a sign of a Starblades' immense violence- denoting the character of astartes as a violent beast, born within the bloody pits of the red planet, and bathed in the black maw of war.
- Corpse Party - A Corpse Party is a common celebration the Starblades and the people of the red planet undertake- beginning towards the end of a battle or campaign, the Starblades will collect the flesh and viscera of their kills, competing to see who manages to get the most flesh and gore before the battle ends. after such, the Starblades will return to the red planet or their respective world, and the celebrations will truly commence- here, the sum of flesh from multiple different battles will be boiled, disinfected, and dressed with the finest of culinary additions, before the feasting begins. here, the Starblades tear into their meals, sing hymns in languages long lost, and load their bodies full of chems- during such, any unfortunate slaves nearby will be brought over during this, and violently beaten to death with bare fists, and then hurled into pits of boiling, bloody water to be cooked and eaten. after the completion of the corpse party, the Starblades responsible for collecting the most ingredients will be marked by a cleaver branded upon one of their knee-guards, signifying they are one of the honoured butchers of the Starblades.
- Oni-no-Kagami - The Oni-no-kagami is one of the Starblades most unique tradition- here, a battle-brother of the Starblades is fed with copious amounts of drugs, hallucinogens, thrown into a room ridden with mirrors, and forced to confront their past sins, their weaker side, or their own humanity- this astartes is left there for a specific period of days and nights, until he deems himself purified- astartes that undertake the oni-no-kagami emerge with completely different personalities, often more focused, with their rage more neatly stored within. the door to this room is then opened, and the astartes is then released- this ritual often denotes purification, and the severing of one's weakness- cowardly Starblades emerge more focused than ever, fearless of the enemy. the astartes is then finally branded with a black streak along the helmet, and unleashed, with a new title included.
- Shigo eien - Shigo eien or translated mortis eternal is a rare, and venerated tradition- when an honored brother believes he may soon meet the end of his service- be it a crippling wound, a plague his body cannot overcome, the dwindling of his skill from old age- or a suicide mission- his power armor is painted pure, bone white- and he is adorned in black robes, granted the honor of being immortalized in history- this hero of the starblades is then allowed one final walk down the grand hall of the hellstar, saluted by his brothers, and finally allowed to leave for his final mission- or buried within an ornate coffin after death.
Gene-Seed[]
the gene-seed of the starblades is best described as a cocktail- created from both the world eaters and the blood angels- the starblades fall into the bracket of various chapters created with such geneseed, many assume the night lords may have some kind of involvement in this mixture, due to the brutal nature of the starblades- but that is wrong, there is no trace of konrads sons within the starblades, it is purely composed of the blood angels and world eaters- with no other trace elements.
however, the starblades geneseed is certainly not without its flaws, that is one thing for certain- something that cannot be denied by even the most prideful of starblades- that their geneseed is not perfect- that it is not something as great as the ancient ultramarines, nor as safe as their successors. their creators had forged them into butchers- and unfortunately, the starblades gladly took such a title, and became monsters, as all would expect of such a force.
however, the starblades have their own set of unique elements that set them apart from a usual astartes- their muscles are further defined, with greyish skin due to the ash-choked, sunless environments of the red planet- they are also stronger than a normal astartes- more durable alongside such- due to the geneseed of angron- combined with the breeding pens of the red planet- a starblade is a monster of muscle and rage, and combined with increased cannibalistic urges- are an immense threat in their own way.
Genetic curse: Wrath of the Shackled God[]
running deep within the veins of the starblades, lies a horrid hybrid flaw- an imprint of the butchers nails- the very mark foulness, a flaw beyond the mere risk of the red thirst, a dagger more jagged than the black rage- the shine of a bloody star- the belief they are in those pits- locked within the blackest, foulest depths of nuceria. the wrath of a shackled god born anew- more bluntly: at the end of it, they become nothing more than an echo of angron during his time within nuceria, a transformation into an animal beyond comprehension.
when a shogun undergoes this fate, it manifests in stages- 3 in specific, dragged out over years, putting the starblade afflicted through indescribable agony- until finally- they snap.
- stage 1 (voids shackles): the astartes begins to feel a gnawing, incessant pain- his temper lowers, his ferocity grows- and he hungers- not just for blood, but dominance- to see the fear in the opponents eyes, to rip them apart- anything to stop the pain from biting. he grows less restricted- his sadistic urges surge into a skyrocket- evermore wishing to rip, and feast. veins bulge in constant exertion- eyes turn bloodshot, and that once prideful light within the eyes of the starblade dies- replaced with a slowly bulging flame of fury- minute currently, but if not pulled free from this state by a battle brother- he may fall, over the course of years- as the metaphorical shackles begin to break.
- stage 2 (raging star): by this point, the starblade begins to fall deep into his rage, movements become erratic, strength increases- and the astartes becomes wracked with agony far more intense than the first stage- eyes take on a yellowish sheen- teeth appear sharper, and the astartes appears to grow ever so slightly taller, as if growing to mirror his progenitor primarch.
- stage 3 (supernova): by this point, the astartes is lost- the pain and rage intensifies to a foul peak- and he essentially becomes less than even a raging animal, unable to even wield a weapon- this rogue astartes will have his skin begin to steam- and his features become much alike to the oni of old terran myth, long fangs extending from a maw of jagged teeth- no longer are they alike to angron on nuceria- they are nothing but a beast, nigh-unkillable, clawed, and possessed by a rage unmatched by the most devoted of khorne.
Combat Doctrine[]
violence is the central language of the starblades- that cannot be denied- their finesse, and skill in melee combat is something in its own league- whilst not unmatched- a starblade is a masterclass duelist, and it is said to fight one is to directly invite a brutal death. in war, the starblades blindly charge forwards, raining down gunfire until they grow close enough- and then finally- they engage in brutal close combat, smashing through the foe with reckless abandon- katanas cleave through sinew- kanabos smash bone, and teeth rip into throats- the starblades may lack tactical finesse- but due to the combined parts of their increased durability, and the naturally more durable bulk of their power armor, they are nigh-unstoppable when they get into melee range, capable of devastating xenos- or more notably, heretic astartes, which is where the starblades bloom best in battle.
Deathwatch Service[]
despite the hatred the starblades harbor for the inquisition- they serve within the deathwatch- albeit this service, is much alike to a mercenary, the starblades tend to dangle their members like a fancy jewel, offering prices for short, temporary services- the starblades also use this as a method to gain a degree of leverage- essentially to spell out that they cant be heretics because of an abundance of starblades within kill-teams or watch-fortresses. aside from this, a starblade somewhat benefits from such- as they are often hurled in closer to combat then usual, feeding their cannibalistic bloodlust majorly.
much unlike the blood angels- serving in the deathwatch actually helps a shogun in the way, bolstering his pride, and confidence- whilst also in a way keeping them sane, and improving their abilities of teamwork. the starblades are able to maintain their forces despite this generous spending of their astartes- meaning they can afford this act without crippling their forces.
Notable Starblades[]
yuchiro - veteran of clan kurogane. slaughtered 300 tyranids alone during a siege, fought until he was crushed by a carnifex, which he killed with a krak grenade in his last moments, his katana was planted upon a hill within the red planet, stabbed into a mound of skulls.
(W.I.P)
Chapter Fleet[]
Chapter Relics[]
Chapter Appearance[]
Chapter Colours[]
Chapter Badge[]
Relations[]
Allies[]
Enemies[]
Notable Quotes[]
By: the Starblades[]
About: the Starblades[]
| Chimeric Space Marine Chapters | |
|---|---|
| A | |
| Aardwolves • Angels Palatine • Angels Perdition • Angels of Ruin • Angels of Slaughter • | |
| B | |
| Beast Hunters • Blades of the Eclipse • Blood of Vulkan • Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun • | |
| C | |
| Carrion Lords • Chancellors of Genesis • Chiroptera Legion • Crimson Bones • Crimson Shadows • | |
| D | |
| • | |
| E | |
| Eternal Sons • | |
| F | |
| Flame Liches • | |
| G | |
| Ghost Wolves • Golden Torches • Graven Skulls • | |
| H | |
| Hochmeister • Hounds of Kerberos • | |
| I | |
| Ifriet Host • Imperatoris Executoris • Imperial Brothers of the Sword • | |
| J | |
| Juggernauts • | |
| K | |
| • | |
| L | |
| Legion of Solus • | |
| M | |
| Makhai • | |
| N | |
| Nameless Stalkers • Night Guard • Noble Angels • Northern Lions • | |
| O | |
| • | |
| P | |
| Palatine Sons • | |
| Q | |
| • | |
| R | |
| Rust Hammers • | |
| S | |
| †Scions of the Konic • Silver Flames • Solar Avengers • Sons of the Wyvern • Spears of the Phoenix • Star Crusaders • Starblades • | |
| T | |
| • | |
| U | |
| Umbral Wraiths • | |
| V | |
| Void Angels • Void Rippers • | |
| W | |
| Winged Axes • | |
| X | |
| • | |
| Y | |
| • | |
| Z | |
| Zero Legion • |