The frozen expanses of Neptune, the silent black battlefields of the Kyper Belt, the endless rust wastes… none of these were able to extinguish the burning spirit of the Ninth Legion. Despite losing many of their original numbers during the conquests, they were discovered by the Emperor, alive and thriving on Neptune. Their numbers were replenished by the barely-human inhabitants of the icy planet. Where other legions may have crumbled, the Ninth Legion only grew stronger, rising like a bloody phoenix from the ashes of defeat.
In the tumultuous early days of the Great Crusades, the Ninth Legion was a force in constant evolution. Primarily composed of line infantry, they were a brutal force in the chaotic theatre of close-quarters combat. The Ninth Legion thrived in this role, preferring sudden, overwhelming charges to drawn-out battles of attrition. They adorned their storm gry Mark 2 power armor with macabre imagery and frequently fought without helmets, their angelic faces smeared with blood to unsettle their enemies.
The Ninth Legion understood the power of their fearsome reputation. They often staged their attacks at dusk or dawn, incorporated their secret bloody rituals into their battle doctrines, indulged in bloody feasts, and tore apart foes on the battlefield. All this, to break enemy morale and incite panic. Time and again, they were thrown into the crucible of destruction, only to emerge each time as strong as before.
Despite their reputation and strengths, the Ninth Legion lacked the prestige and popularity of other legions, such as the celebrated Eighth Legion or Horus’s own Sixteenth Legion. They were considered a dangerous and unsightly weapon, to be unsheathed only in dire need and then quickly hidden away. Yet, it was the efforts of these ingloriously practical and bloodstained warriors that laid the foundations of the Imperium. The Ninth Legion’s contributions were instrumental in the construction of the golden empire the Emperor sought to build.
One of the more unique practices of the Ninth Legion, stemming from the harsh environments they endured and their genetic makeup, was the consumption of fallen captains by their followers. This was done to preserve their accumulated skills and experience. As both an honor and a practical measure, it became customary for new recruits to take the names of those whose abilities they had absorbed. And for lieutenants to adopt the names of their fallen captains.
While this practice united the Ninth Legion internally, it also distanced them from their allies in the Imperial Army and other Legions. Several Primarchs expressed disdain for the Ninth Legion’s practices, even though they couldn’t argue with their battlefield success. This legacy of mistrust and barbarism was a burden the Ninth carried, imposed upon them by the brutal necessities of their mission in the early days of the Imperium.
One such name that echoed throughout the history of the Ninth Legion was Isidor Akros. Believed to have served as the Ninth Legion’s first and only Master other than Sanguinius himself, historical records suggest that Isidor commanded the Ninth from the Unification Wars to the discovery of Baal in the year 843 of the 30th Millennium. Yet this narrative was a result of the Ninth Legion’s practice of name adoption, with the name dying numerous times only to be assumed by another warrior over countless battles.
The early days of the Ninth Legion were a testament to their resilience, adaptability, and sheer tenacity. Few songs are sung in praise of their deeds, but their contributions to the Imperium cannot be understated. They were a legion that was cast into the fires of destruction, only to rise each time, stronger and more determined. They were the Revenant Legion, the bloody phoenix rising from the ashes.
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