The Dornian Heresy - The Bolter and Chainsword

The thing shredded old Master Colpek without breaking its stride, and
advanced on Magnus. They had summoned a creature of nightmare... His
nightmares! He recognised the same rasping growl and the way its talons
moved like liquid flame; it was the thing from his earliest memories. It had torn
its way into the vessel that had brought him to Prospero and taken his eye. Now
it was back for more.
Something had happened to him. At first Magnus thought that his skull was
splitting, but now the pain had gone, and his mind had opened up to something
far beyond the material plane. His awareness snapped back into the hermetic
tower to find himself alone with the entity... the daemon. Before he could react,
the thing had him pinned to the floor with a talon pinking the flesh around his
one good eye. It whispered to him, gloatingly, that it had come here to stop him
from becoming a powerful tool of his master‟s rival. The names it spoke of,
„Khorne‟ and „Tzeentch‟, resonated through his soul like shards of ice.
Despite his desperate struggles the creature whispered that it would first take
his eye to complete the set, and then pluck out Magnus‟ heart to appease its
master. Then, just as the talon broke the skin beneath his eye, a total calmness
descended. It all became so clear to him. With a smile, Magnus reached out
with his mind and snuffed out the daemon‟s very essence. The ensuing
explosion was heard all across Tizca. Untouched by the conflagration, Magnus
considered the daemon‟s words. He would not be a puppet of this Tzeentch, and
no one would take his eye.
By the time the Emperor and the
Fifteenth Legion of Astartes had
reached Prospero, father and son knew
each other as though they had never
been parted. Despite all of Magnus‟
assurances, the arrival of the Master of
Mankind and His fleet of warships was
greeted with suspicion by the people of
Prospero, but the Emperor‟s legendary
charisma quickly won them over. To
further assuage their fears, Magnus had
his legion build their fortressmonastery
at the heart of Tizca in the
hope that they would no longer have to
apprehensively watch the skies.
The legion itself had particular reason
to celebrate finding their primarch.
Although they had not recruited on the
basis of psychic talent, the gene-seed
they had been patterned upon had
boosted their innate abilities and
triggered latent ones. As a side-effect it
also caused a very high incidence of
both genetic and implant mutation
among the brethren, to the extent that
the legion was smaller than most of the
others. As the home of the mutant and
the psyker, Prospero was the perfect
place for such a legion. By the time
Magnus was ready to join the Great
Crusade, his original „Thousand Sons‟
had expanded moderately beyond their
nominal level by the cream of
Prospero‟s talents. As they set out to
do the Emperor's great work, what they
lacked in conventional numbers was
more than made up for with highly
trained battle-psykers able to kill an
enemy with but a thought.
The Great Crusade
As Magnus and his new legion
ventured across the stars, it gave them
an opportunity to gain that which they
craved the most: knowledge. Each
world brought into compliance with the
Emperor‟s will revealed to them the
learning and insights of a new culture.
As well as the countless human
societies, the myriad xenos breeds
were also a constant source of wonder.
From the subtle Eldar to the brutal
Orks, each new sample was
characterised, dissected and
catalogued. This expansion also
brought with it fresh dangers. Even
forewarned against the Ruinous
Powers, the Thousand Sons still
suffered losses. Every battle brother
that fell hardened their hearts against
the evil of Chaos, and turned Magnus‟
thoughts to the casualties sustained by
the other legions who had no concept
or defence against the threat they
faced.
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Their travels across the galaxy brought
them into contact with many of
Magnus‟ brother primarchs. Some, in
particular Horus of the Luna Wolves
and Lorgar of the Word Bearers,
became firm friends. Others, such as
the Mortarion of the Death Guard and
Leman Russ, the feral primarch of the
Space Wolves, took an instant dislike
to Magnus and everything he stood for.
The uncouth Russ called him mutant,
sorcerer, unclean and even a cyclops
after the one-eyed giant of Terran
legend. At every meeting, be it cordial
or adversarial, Magnus respected the
Emperor‟s demand to keep silent about
the nature of Chaos, despite the
crushing certainty that ignorance left
his brothers vulnerable to the
predations of the Ruinous Powers.
Magnus bore his brothers‟ harsh words
with good grace, in the certainty that
once on the field of battle all enmity
would be placed aside. This was tested
most sorely on the fortress-world of
Bartok, where a campaign by the Space
Wolves to bring the planet into
Imperial compliance had degenerated
into a bloody stalemate. In order to
bring the campaign to a rapid
conclusion, the Emperor Himself had
ordered the Thousand Sons to reinforce
the assault. The headstrong Leman
Russ detested the idea of being seen to
need the help of another legion,
especially one he had so publically
denounced, but he grudgingly
submitted to his father‟s decree.
Even with the might of two legions, it
soon became clear why Russ had
struggled. The final and greatest city
was protected by directed energy fields
and ringed with trenches, strongpoints
and bunker networks resulting in
brutally effective interlocking fields of
fire. The approaches had been turned
into a killing ground worthy of those
designed by Perturabo or Dorn. As
Russ prepared to throw his forces into
yet another headlong charge against the
enemy guns, Magnus and his legion
exposed the weak link in the Bartok
defence. All across the battlezone, the
Thousand Sons reached into weak,
unguarded minds and urged them to
turn their guns on their friends. Even as
Russ‟ Wolves advanced, heavy weapon