Lets have a bit of story set up, then we'll roll for stuff such as home world and doctrine.
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Clauden VI was in the midst of a bloodbath. Almost every city devoured by the flames of war, every field drowned in men, and terrified refugees crowded in the last habitable vestige the defenders of Clauden VI could surround. Communication was cut off, and any ships above had either fled or been destroyed, raining fiery wreckage down below.
Brother Fausten was exhausted, even his superhuman nature had its limits, and twelve weeks of nonstop fighting in mud that more resembled an ocean of blood at this point was pushing the Ultramarine past the brink.
Every muscle in his body felt read to fall apart from the bone as he heaved himself forward across no man’s land, trying his best to not accidentally crush the fallen bodies of his brothers that were slowly being consumed by the muck below. Before him were his scattered brothers, falling under the vicious onslaught of the red armored World Eaters that moved more as a wave than an army, and in the midst of the gore stood the Devourer of Worlds himself, Angron, who tore another marine limb from limb as if he were paper.
Fausten clutched his boltor, as caked over in filth as the rest of him, and felt the stirring of anger in his heart as he watched the Daemon Prince rip and tear through his brothers. He could hear the distant booms of missiles hitting the ground, perhaps the last desperate salvos of the Imperial Guardsmen that defended the crumbling bunkers. Angron’s bloodied weapons made no difference between blue or red, all fell beneath him as he moved onwards. Fausten saw one of his brothers slip in the mud and then disappear beneath Angron’s form, the loud sound of ceramite and bonecracking somehow audible to him over the din of war.