"**Report,**" came the stern voice of the newly made Primaris, **Allteranius Nix**. He had been reforged anew in the image of the Primaris, but until now, he had remained on the sidelines, waiting for his chapter’s reinforcements and supplies. Now, with Bitter Hold beneath them, he stood at the precipice of his command.
Nix gazed at the data scrolling across the terminal before him, his eyes narrowing in thought. Beside him, a veteran brother remained stoic, his hands clasped behind his back.
"**We are in orbit, brother,**" the veteran reported, handing over the data slate.
Nix took it, his brow furrowed as he reviewed the details.
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**Planet Name:** Bitter Hold
**Planet Type:**
A cold, windswept, and mountainous planet at the far edge of its star system. Bitter Hold’s landscape is a harsh expanse of craggy peaks, ancient forests, and tundra. Thick, gray clouds perpetually cloak the sky, casting an eternal twilight over the planet.
**Society:** Feudal Knightly Hierarchy
Bitter Hold is governed by a rigid feudal system rooted in ancient High Gothic traditions. The nobility consists of Knight-Lords who control vast estates, known as Holdings, swearing fealty to the High King, who rules from the **Black Citadel**—an imposing fortress overlooking the capital city, Tarrath.
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Nix’s lips tightened into a thin line as he scrolled further. **“Tsk,”** he muttered, the bitterness rising in his chest. His mood darkened as his eyes flicked to **Captain Gaven**, who stood beside the table. "This planet has been untouched for centuries, hasn’t it? Those warp storms... and the black sun nearby—it’s what kept this place isolated."
Gaven met Nix’s gaze, sensing his brother's growing frustration. He had fought beside Nix for over two centuries, and he knew that despite Nix's stoic exterior, there was an undercurrent of resentment beneath it.
"Yes," Gaven replied, his voice steady, "and now we are about to bring war upon them—for nothing more than what they possess. This is an outpost, nothing more."
Nix’s fists clenched, the old anger boiling to the surface. **"We should have died back on Baal, with the rest of our brothers."**
Gaven turned to him, his expression calm but resolute. "Do you remember what you said at the Conclave? **‘At the Emperor’s will I follow. For Sanguinius, I bleed.’**" Gaven’s voice softened slightly. "That is our purpose, Nix. And it will be until the end. We must do our duty. Even here."
Nix stood at those words, his resolve hardening. **"We do what we must, or we die trying."** He glanced at Gaven, their unspoken bond solidified as they left the office and strode through the corridors of the battle barge.
Gaven followed behind, casting a glance at Nix, noting the towering height that came with his transformation into a Primaris Marine. **“Bitter Hold...”** he murmured, the name fitting the bitter burden Nix now carried.
After a moment, Gaven spoke aloud, breaking the silence. **“Have you decided on the chapter's name yet? The rest of our brothers grow uneasy with the wait.”** They turned left at an intersection, their armored boots echoing through the dimly lit corridors.
Nix nodded but remained silent, his thoughts swirling. They approached the command room, where nine captains awaited them. As they entered, nine fists hit their chest plates in unison, a resounding thud reverberating through the chamber.
**"We greet you, Brother Allteranius Nix."**
Nix felt his blood stir as he took in the sight of his captains. This was the moment he had prepared for, the duty that had been thrust upon him by the Emperor's will. Bitter Hold, despite its desolation, would be the foundation of his chapter’s legacy. **"The Black Citadel..."** he muttered with a faint smile, imagining the fortress that would soon be his.
He stepped forward, addressing his captains with authority. **"My brothers, we have been given a difficult task, and for that, I am sorry. But there is no time to dwell on trivial matters. We are here to stake a claim, to extend the Imperium’s reach."** His voice grew stronger as he continued. **"We must be one in both blood and mind. I have already sent the data back to Lord Commander Dante. From this day forward, we shall be known as the **Cardinal Phoenixes**, the Imperium’s red shield."**
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The captains stood tall, their armor gleaming in the dim light as Nix’s words resonated with them.
**“What say you, my brothers of the Cardinal Phoenixes?”** Nix’s voice carried with an air of finality, daring them to rise to the challenge. **“Shall we spread our wings, as our father Sanguinius once did?”**
A resounding **“Aye, sir!”** filled the room, their voices booming through the barge’s intercom, echoing throughout every chamber. From the highest Magos to the lowest servitor, all heard the shout.
**“Launch will begin in two hours. Prepare your companies. Dismissed.”** Nix ordered, turning back to gaze at the planet through the command room's viewport.
As the room emptied, Nix picked up the data slate once more, continuing to read about Bitter Hold.
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**Architecture and Culture:** High Gothic Aesthetic
The architecture of Bitter Hold is grand and imposing, with towering cathedrals, vast stone fortresses, and intricate sculptures that reflect a rigid, divine order. Every building evokes a sense of divine authority and stoic resilience, from the **Black Citadel**, the planet's greatest fortress, to the scattered castles of the knight-lords.
**Religion:** Pantheon of Sorrow
The people of Bitter Hold are devout followers of the **Pantheon of Sorrow**, a group of deities venerated for their embodiment of suffering and endurance. The most prominent of these include the **Silent King**, the god of leadership and stoicism, and the **Weeping Maiden**, a symbol of loss and sacrifice.
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Nix let out a quiet hum of contemplation. **"Bitter Hold..."** he mused, already picturing the changes he would bring. **"You will adapt, or you will fall. Welcome to the Imperium."**
He turned to the console, inputting commands. The terminals lit up, and a voice responded: **“As you wish, Lord Master.”**
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42M…The Black Citadel Fortress Monastery
The hall of the fortress-monastery stays cold year-round, The howling winds of Bitter Hold slap against obsidian walls. The 100 Aspirants stood in tense silence, their eyes fixed on you—the Elder, the last surviving witness to the event known as the Red Purge. His aged face bears the weight of memory, and his voice is heavy with both reverence and sorrow as he began the tale.
“The Red Purge,” he spoke in a gentle whisper, his voice cutting through the silence like a ghostly blade. “It began as the first true test of Bitter Holds old faiths shush a test that we failed miserably. Fifty years ago, the skies darkened, not with the storms we had known, but with the descent of angels of death. The Cardinal Phoenixes, a new Chapter of the Blood Angels, came upon us. We did not know their name then, only that they descended like crimson meteors, their Thunderhawks tearing through the sky. They came not with the pomp of diplomacy or the heralds of peace. No. They came as conquerors, and they brought the wrath of the Emperor with them.”
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle, over the years he’s come to love these moments eternal serfdom has its perks. The Aspirants’ faces remain stern, but their eyes betray their apprehension this was a tale omitted from the records they had access to however the Phoenix’s Chapter master began all aspirant’s journey with the truth of their home world.
“We are a backwards society you see my young ones and before you step foot into The Black Citadel you must know our the Imperium is the Truth and the Law of life”.
“Day One,” you continue, “was the day of fire. I was but a young knight-squire under the banner of Lord Castellan Dravius, who ruled the Black Citadel of Sorrow. We had always been proud of our defenses—the mountain fortresses that no enemy had ever breached, But we were naive. The first we knew of the invasion was when the orbital bombardments began. Great streaks of fire rained from the heavens, obliterating whole settlements in the western reaches of the Hallowed Peaks. The Obsidian Keep was struck in the first salvo. We had no time to muster our forces. The walls we thought invincible crumbled like ash before the fury of their weaponry.”
His eyes narrow and his head lowered as the memories flood back.
“The Cardinal Phoenixes did not wait. Before the dust had even settled, they descended. Angels, they called themselves, but they were demons to us. Crimson and gold at the time, their armor gleamed like blood on freshly fallen snow. The Knights of Trarra rode out to meet them, our noblest warriors, arrayed in their ancient armor, wielding the blades of our forefathers. We thought we could hold them. We thought wrong.”
You can see the Aspirants tense, imagining the battle to come.
“Ahh by Day Two” He sighed with resignation, “We learned the truth of what we faced. The Cardinal Phoenixes were not just warriors. They were monsters—faster, stronger, and far more brutal than any man we had ever known. We watched in horror as they tore through our ranks, their swords cleaving through our armor as if it were parchment. Their leader, Chapter Master Allteranius, was a god of war to our leaders, his blade singing with the death of a hundred knights.
The Aspirants shifted uncomfortably, talking about the lord like that was damn near blasphemy…
“They did not fight like men. They fought like beasts. They tore into our lines, not with the precision of warriors, but with the frenzy of predators. I saw men—knights—ripped limb from limb, their blood sprayed across the snow, their screams drowned in the roar of battle.”
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.