Are you bored of fancy footwork and devious double-bluffs? Do you want to get stuck into the real action? Do you enjoy nothing more than the rumble of a hungry chainaxe, and the thrill of hot gore splattering on your face, up your nose, and pretty much everywhere else? The XII Legion are the ones for you.
We start week three of our Legion Day articles with the angriest, the deadliest, the most terrifying of all Space Marines – the mighty World Eaters. These completely unbiased reviews of the Legiones Astartes have finally found a fighting force worthy of the title belt – the Iron Hands may be competitive, but these guys are out for blood.
When they were formed on Terra, the earliest XII Legionaries weren’t drawn from any particular region. Instead, there were rumours of a shadowy psychological screening process that only picked the most hot-blooded candidates. This does seem to track with the Legion’s overall temperament, which could be charitably described as belligerent.
Unlike his more pompous Legions, the XII were kept in reserve by the Emperor, dubbed his “War Hounds” and deployed only in the most dire situations – like smashing a big red button labelled "kill everything". Even a handful of War Hounds could inflict horrifying carnage, a missile fired straight into the enemy. And just like firing a missile, you didn't really expect them to come back in one piece...
After he took command, Angron renamed his Legion after the Eaters of Cities, his former band of rebels – no longer collared hounds, they’d be called World Eaters.* Under his regime, there was hardly any difference between training and active warfare – the XII Legion became a spacefaring slaughterhouse that could win any battle, no matter the body count.
The World Eaters are best of the best at getting right up into (and punching) the faces of the enemy. They won’t need to write a pretentious little poem about it, either – these gore-spattered gladiators are Violence Incarnate, and entirely too enthusiastic about pummeling their foes into a pulp.
It’s said that a single well-honed blade can defeat an entire armoury of lesser weapons. The XII Legion prefer roaring chainaxes, but they agree in principle. Is your foe cowering behind barricades? Charge. Scrambling for melee? Charge. Shooting you in the face? Charge. Even a hail of bullets can’t stop The Savage Tide – an Advanced Reaction that lets your infantry shrug off outrageous volumes of fire, then reply with an earth-shattering assault.
While the skulking cowards of the Night Lords figure out how to sneak around toting oversized chainglaives, the World Eaters prefer a less elegant weapon, befitting a more brutal age. The XII Legion pioneered the use of the chainaxe, which trades the balance of a chainsword for a heftier biting edge – perfect for putting the full force of their transhuman musculature and Savage Fervour behind every swing.
Stepping into the ring at over 10 feet tall, it’s the Lord of the Red Sands, the Red Angel, the galaxy’s super heavyweight champion – Angron! Everything you need to know about this cantankerous character is summed up by the following factoid – he sometimes wore a kilt of razor-sharp swords to slice-and-dice anyone who got inside the reach of his chainaxes.
Flung out into the void like his brothers, Angron landed on Nuceria, where he was captured by slavers and forced to fight in gladiatorial pits for their sick amusement. When he refused, he was implanted with psycho-surgical devices dubbed the Butcher’s Nails. These boosted his aggression and endurance – and in the first of many blind rages, he slaughtered the gladiator he’d considered a friend, a mentor, and a father.
Angron launched a rebellion against the Nucerian elite, leading an army of freed slaves that burned entire cities. The Emperor enjoyed the show from orbit, but even Angron couldn’t take on a whole planet – so he finally descended, and offered to save his son. The Primarch chose instead to die with his friends.** Never one to take “no” for an answer, the Emperor teleported Angron away on the eve of battle. Forcing a transhuman slab of vexation to watch his friends die? Not the smartest move.
As bosses go, Angron wasn’t ideal – for starters, he slaughtered a bunch of his own men in a fit of pique just after being press-ganged. Only Eighth Captain Khârn managed to form a friendship of sorts with him.*** He even demanded that his best Apothecaries and Techmarines reverse-engineer the Butcher’s Nails, pushing the Legion’s pain tolerance and lust for violence even further.
By and large, the World Eaters jumped at the chance to become even better living weapons. They already had 19 implants – what was one more?
The World Eaters’ rampages hadn’t gone unnoticed – even the ever-belligerent Leman Russ tried to reign them in, though Angron sent him away with his tail between his legs. Eventually, the Emperor asked Horus – one of the few brothers who appreciated Angron’s skills – to talk some sense into him. Unfortunately, the Warmaster was already on a more Ruinous payroll. Whoops.
As a charismatic master tactician, Horus used every ounce of his cunning to bring Angron on-side – probably just by saying “you’re right to hate our awful father”. With this bond reforged, the World Eaters joined the Traitor Legions – and soon, the Blood God Khorne.
Somehow, the beefiest Primarch agreed to capture – or rather, “rampage across” – Ultramar alongside Lorgar, his bookish brother. Unbeknownst to Horus, the ensuing slaughter was part of Lorgar’s plan to turn Angron into a Daemon Prince of Khorne. It seems like the Warmaster was making the same short-sighted decisions as the man he’d sworn to overthrow.****
Alas, the Warmaster didn’t factor the World Eaters’ impulsive nature into his plans. Angron was even less governable than the Khan, and it took all the firepower Perturabo could muster to get him to the Sol System in time for the Siege of Terra.
On the Throneworld, Angron and his sons tore around the planet, slaughtering friends and foes alike. The Emperor’s barrier kept the newly-ascended Primarch barred from the Imperial Palace, leaving Angron battering at the walls – and their unfortunate defenders – until the Siege ended.
To dig further into the nailed-up brains of the World Eaters, Betrayer is your go-to book. The odd couple of Lorgar and Angron unleash the Shadow Crusade upon Ultramar, and a thoroughly bloody business ensues – one that could potentially doom Horus’s whole endeavour.
For a handle on Angron’s past in the gladiatorial pits – and precisely what happened when his callous father saddled him with a Legion he never wanted – Angron: Slave of Nuceria peels back the layers and cuts to the quick of the Primarch’s hopes and fears.
This step-by-step painting guide will ensure your World Eaters are painted to perfection and ready for a fresh coat of blood.
Are you up to the challenge of joining the XII Legion? Take the Discover Your Legion quiz on the Warhammer: The Horus Heresy website to find out – now updated with more information on the incredible new edition of the game.
* Every true performer understands the importance of themed branding.
** Say what you will about the Red Angel, he might have been onto something here…
*** They bonded over their favourite things – cracking skulls and taking names.
**** All this hubris is beginning to look like some kind of recurring literary motif…