+ inload: 8th Squad, 2nd Company +

+ Squad Greon; 8th of the 2nd Company +

+ Another inload that's been lurking ready to polish off. I can't quite believe that, apparently, I finished these in 2023(!). I guess in between other projects and painting their Epic-scale counterparts, it has been a while. +

+ This inload has remained embargoed in this noospheric node because it was orginally intended as a series – but rather than sit on it forever, I thought you might like to have a grand sweep! +

+ Below, then, is the extent of my finished Salamanders – though there are more on the way. After all, what reinvigorates interest in a project more than taking a look back over the finished ones? +

+++

Unlike the others, his measure of patience had run dry some time ago. Another breakdown. Another pause. Volkaeus Orurr breathed out testily.

Looking for a distraction, he reached for the rail and clambered up to the Rhino's roof one-handed, his boltgun in the other. Magnificence was not the fastest transport in terms of raw speed, but unlike the convoy vehicles, he mused darkly, it could keep going. 

The transporters were not vehicles intended for service in hostile environments like the Dune Seas. With a regularity that struck Orurr as perversely ill-fitting to their mechanical reliability, every few hundred klicks one or another of the tankers or luggers would slew to a halt as filters clogged, tyres slumped, or the over-stimmed and under-rested hiveborn crew passed out in the unaccustomed heat. The convoy would pause, on edge and nervy, as the errant vehicle was coaxed back into life, winched back onto the track, or otherwise repaired. 

The worst were the failures that billowed thick, oily smoke – as potent a signal as any the orks might hope for. Easy pickings here, the coiling smoke suggested.

Not for the first time, the Salamander cursed the name of Herman von Strab. According to Captain Mir'san, it was largely owing to the Imperial Commander's arrogance and mismanagement that these intra-hive transports were all that was available for the backline armies. Hurriedly fitted with bulky external breathers and heat shielding before being filled with vital water, fuel and materiel, the vehicles were slow and unreliable – and thus the convoys were perfect targets for the roving greenskins.

The cream of Armageddon's armies had been lost in the early conflict, and the replacements far from confident. Upon his arrival, Chapter Master Tu'Shan had been appraised of the situation by Captain Galenus of the Ultramarines' 4th, and had immediately taken it upon the Salamanders' broad shoulders to ensure the world could fight; that its vital roads and arteries would be protected from roving marauders. Clapping his cousin on the shoulder in gratitude, Calgar had made his gratitude clear that the Ultramarines would be freed to prosecute the offensive. 

+++

The ever-present chemical tang was acerbic; but the height afforded by the Rhino gave him a moment's relief. The vehicle crews needed rebreathers in the hot, dry air, but the Space Marine's genewrought might made the air merely unpleasant. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and looked about him.

Armageddon's sun was low in the sky, red and ominous. Dark spots across it marked orbital defences – or more likely the wreckage of the same. The ground was seemingly an endless sea of yellow-grey dunes; the road all but hidden. Orurr's belted helm knocked against his leg as he straightened up. 

Nothing for five hundred miles in any direction. No landmarks save the distant hive – and that had long been swallowed by the dust. Not even Astartes' vision could penetrate that.

+++

+ V'reth Tardisdemi +

Previously known as Man'Ekes Kenndh, he adopted the name V'reth Tarsidemi following his tempering. Noted as 'Melancholy of aspect and pensive by nature', Tarsidemi appeared to regard his promotion to the Battle Companies as part of a great cycle; an inevitable result of his forebear's consumption in the pyres of warfare, rather than as a result of any exceptionalism on his part.

Regarded as over-analytical and tiresome by his previous squadmates in the 6th Company, he was an uneasy fit amongst the Flamehammers. He found a more fitting place within the Defenders of Nocturne, where both his asceticism and his appreciation for aesthetics came to be regarded as strengths.

+++

+ Cassax Fo'ken +

Bastards. That was what they always were. Fo'ken had fought seven different species of Xeno bastard, and been involved in wars on seventeen different campaigns involving human bastards. Oh, they varied – different weapons or tactics or heights, novel spines or scales or ululations – but all that mattered, to Cassax Fo'ken, was that they were bastards that he had to kill.

The orks were no different. Not for him the Salamanders' ritual term – the gurm kenndh, or 'Old Enemy'. No, to him, the greenskins were simply bastards. Small bastards, big bastards, bastards with big guns... It mattered little to him.

In truth, he was an outlier. The first to be assigned to Greon's squad, Fo'ken was as dependable as any of his brethren – though few sought him out for comradeship.

+ Typhak Numatone +

Unequivocal and single-minded from an early age – 'from the cradle,' joked his parents – the boy who was to become Brother Typhak Numatone had the given name of Br'Tra, which meant 'supremacy' in his city's tongue. Whether through destiny, a sense of filial duty, or simple nominative determinism, Br'Tra doggedly purused Ascension, believing it to be the only way to do honour to his family. Such ambition is not infrequent on Nocturne, but Numatone was able to moderate raw drive to avoid pride and become a considered – if impulse-driven – addition to the 2nd Company.

 

The reinforcing studs on his left greave are an example of the customisation that Salamanders are wont to practise on their armour. Famously, every Salamander creates his own armour – and while this is broadly true in terms, it remains the purview (and responsibility) of those inducted into the Cult Mechanicus to truly render it into Power Armour. 

 

+++

+ On Armour +

During their time in the Seventh company, each Scout will work under the auspices of a Techmarine to forge the external plates of what will become their suit of armour. Not all will prove of battlefield quality, and Scouts are encouraged to retain the items they have forged – thus a talented individual will be proudly 'bare-celled'.

 

The pattern of armour a Scout will undertake to create will be suggested after consultation with the Techmarine, Officers of the Seventh, and (usually) a representative of the Promethean Cult. Thus a Scout may begin to manufacture a suit of any STC-approved mark – and in exceptional cicrumstances, even beyond these. By far the most common in the centuries approaching the Badab and Armageddon campaigns was Mark VII plate, vulgarly known as 'Aquila Armour' on account of its prominent eagle-headed breastplate.

 

When the time comes for a Scout to advance to a Reserve Company, they will present their plate to one of the three Masters of the Forge for inspection and sanctification. The Forgelords will assign an underling – usually a Techmarine, but occasionally an adept and sanctioned Battle Brother who has chosen to sponsor the Scout – to convert the suit of inert plate into functioning Power Armour.

 

The newly-ascended Reservist will then use the armour going forward. Most Salamanders will continue to refine their craft, expanding their skills in the forge by creating additional plates or even full suits. Some focus on aesthetic changes such as lizard-scale trimming or patterning visible only to those with Firesight. Others favour practical augmentation of their existing suit, adding sub-surface reinforcement or back-ups to keep their armour functioning under stress. 

 

A few petition the Techmarines to allow them to attempt other patterns of armour, seeking the challenge of inviting the notoriously fickle 'ruh' (machine spirit) of ancient patterns into their creations – this accounts for the relatively high number of seemingly ancient armour patterns in a Chapter that practices ritual destruction of grave goods. Of course, since a warrior will wear only one suit of armour, other surviving suits may remain as relics – and as with other Chapters, it is relatively common for such relic suits to be used for honorifics, either in whole or in part.

+++

+ Yaptan Greon +

+ Adrak Ush'en +

He had filtered out the rattling creak of the tracks, the ever-present squeaks and groans of Magnificence, and Sepor's private murmured mantra. It was harder to ignore the bucking as Magnificence's suspension made heavy work of this rutted, ill-maintained section of road. The Marine opposite, Numek, hammered a gauntlet on the internal door after a particularly rough jolt.

"Zer Nazan, Ka – much more of your driving and we won't need the gurm to kill us."

The driver yelled back an expletive.

 

Ushen grinned. He could have connected his autosenses to the Rhino's slaved pictcapters, but – jolts and knocks notwithstanding – preferred using his own eyes to peer through the vision slits. 

The war was visible. Immanent. Explosions within the smoke lit the low, disturbed clouds. The horizon seemed to smoulder. Ushen's eyes –as yet still dark by nature – glittered as though kindled. 

Even at this distance, the greasy shimmer of the hives' void shields were visible. They illuminated the dust storms around them, each hive a dim and eerie beacon to the invading gurm kenndh. He wondered, idly, if the convoy drivers could see them.

Ushen was under no illusions that the distance from the primary hives protected him or the others from attack – but he was equanimous about this. The Promethean Cult had long since taught him to anneal resignation or fatigue into stoicism and self-reliance. His faith was firm, deep-set; and built on the sturdy framework of childhood tales that had proven very real. The mythic cycles of the stormlizards; the galactic presence of the dusk wraiths; and – of course – the intrinsic evil of the gurm kenndh: humanity's old enemy.

It was as elemental as the dust or the ground. If he were to meet his end here, it would make no odds to his faith.

+++

+ Illor Hak'phast +

+ Mulbaku Numek +

+ On Geneseed+

Those invested with the geneseed of Vulkan demonstrate measurable physiological superiority to transhuman norms in relation to cellular repair. While making them no more resistant to direct damage than any other Space Marine, they have a baseline advantage in overall resilience – in short, making them fractionally harder to put down and swifter to return to battle than other Astartes.

For the Salamanders long history, this has repeatedly proven a critical boon. Most recently, during the mournful Badab War, the veterans of the Second Company were treacherously attacked during a parley. It was partially owing to their unexpected resilience that they were able to survive the attack.

On Armgeddon, their extreme temperature tolerance and radiological resistance – again markedly superior to those of other Astartes – made them well-suited to the hostile chem-and atomic-spoiled environments in which they found themselves embroiled. They are remembered in song on Armageddon for being those Space Marine most closely associated with the populace. While the noble Blood Angels and courageous Ultramarines took the war to Ghazghkull and his horde, spearheading numberless assaults and thwarting key ork advances, the Salamanders under Tu'Shan and his Captains instead turned to the numberless petty battles that raged across the continent.

Fragmented and frequently isolated, the geneseed gifts of their Primarch sire – along with mental resilience cultivated by their peculiar practises – allowed them to operate at peak efficiency. That they are so fondly remembered by the people of Armageddon is particularly notable when one considers the other aspect of Vulkan's gift: their inhuman appearance. 

The Primarch Vulkan is usually pictured as a coal-skinned giant with glowing red eyes. Whatever the truth of the matter – and ten thousand years separates the modern Imperium from the days of gods and monsters – the bulk of his descendants certainly demonstrate similar physical differences. These emerge gradually, and with varying speed. 

+ Nomix Nor'jargan +

+ Dakad Ka +

+++

Apropos of nothing, it's been quite fun sorting out the markings and thinking about the not-quite-Codex organisation of the Salamanders. I keep having to remind myself that the squad system doesn't work like the Ultramarines. Minor stuff, but it's in such details that we can find diversion and enjoyment.