Original character commission.
Yesonir, the Ninesword, Storm Son of Nakaris
AS A NEOPHYTE, I watched my world die. Most chapters of the adepts astartes recruit new warriors from a single world or system under their protectorate, but few chapters test potential candidates from anywhere within the Imperium. Race, colour, creed matter little to us, you will find warriors of every culture that spans the Emperor’s great domain in the Khuu Arga. I am considered lucky by my elders because I am a native of Nakaris, the former homeworld of the Storm Sons, born of the lineage of the Storm Lords, who are of the lineage of the White Scars of Chogoris. In the traditions of the Fifth Legion before the Great Betrayal, the Warhawk, Jaghatai Khan accepted all into his ordu.
I am also considered lucky by my elders to be one of the First. Not a true First Son like Timurbôr of the Talskar, who fought in the time of Legend, but one of the first to receive the gifts of Shah-Guilliman and the Emissary Cawl. I do not feel so lucky. In the forty-fifth year of what we call the Indomitus Crusade, the Enemy of All killed Nakaris. Already swollen to catastrophic size, the maw of the Maelstrom invaded the homeworld in its thirst for the miracles that created me and others like me. I was but fifteen years standard when the sky blackened and the mountain-fortress of Sunsitai was put to the sword. Seven hundred versus millions. You cannot imagine it. In the end the Shah-Khan ordered evacuation and complete fleet dispersal. ‘Tomukher’s Folly’, they called it. Against our own traditions, the Shah-Khan called kurultai and formed a Great Ordu, one that the Archenemy nearly wiped out in a single stroke. I see things differently. He saved us all and the ordus endure, dispersed and scattered as we have always have in our two thousand year history.
I am a battle-brother, a bondsman of the Storm Sons, sworn to contain and reave the Maelstrom, for the time of the outriders of the storm is now over. It is time to be its jailers.
