Just because you’re an eight-foot tall killing machine clad in inch-thick armour doesn’t mean you have to be rude, and nobody takes this to heart like the Salamanders do. By the example of their Primarch, they form a rock-solid wall in defence of the galaxy’s less fortunate, and excel at the one feat their Legionary cousins struggle with – treating non-Astartes like equals. While less accomplished Legions resort to filthy hellfire, the Salamanders bathe in purifying flames.
In the true spirit of self-sacrifice, the Salamanders have politely waited for the other Legions to have their turn – but the most noble and worthy of all Space Marines are finally getting the recognition they deserve in our ongoing and even-handed look at the fighting forces of the Horus Heresy.
Precious little is known of the XVIII Legion’s origins, for the Emperor was oddly secretive about their formation – even for him. What we do know is that the Legion’s warriors were near-suicidally brave, resistant to heat and radiation, and possessed of a vengeful temper – traits which made them the Great Crusade’s Legion of choice when faced with impossible odds.
Massive space hulks swarming with Orks just dropped out of the warp? Call the XVIII. Insane AI massing a subterranean robot army? Send in the XVIII. Need someone to hold the line against alien hordes while you evacuate? Sounds like a job for the XVIII! Sure, their first major engagement ended with 95% casualties, but that just meant more medals for the surviving 5%. To quote an ancient Terran proverb: “no wipe, no worries.”
As the Emperor’s Children could tell you, glorious sacrifice isn’t a long-term survival strategy – and while the kudos they earned allowed these so-called “Dragon Warriors” to rapidly restock after each nail-biting victory, they soon found themselves deployed piecemeal across the galaxy, settling into an illustrious career of repeatedly being almost wiped out.
Fortunately, around the time of their latest bout with extinction, their Primarch finally took up the mantle of his Legion. Vulkan hammered the philosophy of the Promethean Cult into his newfound sons, emphasising patience, self-knowledge, and soothing arts-and-crafts workshops to reforge their die-hard tendencies from a weakness to a strength.
The newly-renamed Salamanders also picked up the Nocturnean love of fire… and ran with it. Their artisans worked in fiery forges to create masterwork weapons on the regular – potent flamers among them – earning the XVIII a reputation for self-sufficiency, close range firepower, and big green barbeques.
The Salamanders’ home is a volcanic death world, eternally locked in a cycle of tidal upheavals that cause fire to literally rain from the sky. Not exactly a prime holiday destination. You need more than sun cream to survive on Nocturne, and the XVII Legion’s gene-seed only intensifies this Blood of Fire, giving each Salamander a preternatural resistance to flames. And microwaves. And superheated plasma. And Martian death rays.
Sorry, Sanguinius – your dinky inferno pistols are nothing compared to a Nocturnean sunburn.
Just imagine the look on a Traitor’s face when a point-blank blast from a meltagun only makes his target angrier! Unluckily for anyone trying to duck behind a barricade, the XVIII Legion also gives as good as they get. Their fine craftsmanship infuses even their basic flamers with a deadly Dragon’s Breath – if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of template range.
While some Primarchs were raised by mighty chieftains and cruel overlords, or left to fend for themselves against voracious beasts and bloodthirsty gladiators, Vulkan was found by a humble blacksmith with an honest heart. The boy soon astounded his village with his size, strength, and skill at the forge – becoming a beloved folk hero who hunted mighty fire-spitting lizards and turned aside blades on his granite skin.
These prosperous days came to a close thanks to the party-crashing Drukhari, who considered Nocturne a perfect summer vacation spot for doing what they do best – making everyone’s lives thoroughly miserable. The next time a raid flew in to nab some captives, the Primarch grabbed one of his blacksmith’s hammers and proceeded to forge the foul xenos raiders into a new set of paving slabs for his village.**
The mere sight of a roaring giant with coal-black skin and glowing red eyes smashing their army to pieces was enough to send the raiders right back into their portals, which Vulkan dutifully set about dismantling.*** A great festival was held in his honour – predictably infiltrated by the galaxy’s most party-hungry Emperor. After the two tested each other in ritual contests – no doubt leaving one of them nostalgic for his trip to Fenris – the Emperor revealed himself to his son.
Unlike most of his brothers, Vulkan was reluctant to leave his home – he was a friendly local Primarch, after all. The Emperor persuaded him that there was a whole galaxy of people in need of rescuing from vile aliens and an excess of independent government. Vulkan agreed, and shared his appreciation for humanity with his new Legion, even organising them to live as part of Nocturne’s seven great cities – it’s no surprise that they quickly gained a reputation as really nice guys to be around.*
If you were hoping that being well-liked by (almost) all the Legiones Astartes would spare the Salamanders from the Heresy’s violence, we have some bad news. Vulkan’s dedication to the mere mortals that Horus was destined to rule – not to mention the glorious record of his Legion – meant he was near the top of the Traitor hit list. He never even had the chance to give his brother the giant hammer he forged for him as a “congratulations on making Warmaster” present.
Caught between the turncoat Iron Warriors and frenzied World Eaters on Isstvan V, the XVIII Legion put up such incredible resistance that Perturabo had to break out his biggest guns. It turns out even a Salamander’s asbestos skin can’t withstand a sustained nuclear barrage – while a few survived to team up with the almost-as-tough Iron Hands, most of the Legion died in the irradiated inferno of the drop site, including Vulkan himself.
It’s okay, though. He got better.
It turns out Vulkan’s a Perpetual – immortal beings who can regenerate from as little as a rad-scorched smear. Distraught by the ashes of his significantly less unkillable sons scattered around him, the Lord of Drakes was easy pickings for the Traitor clean-up parties, and ended up locked up aboard the Night Lords’ flagship.
As you might expect, the ever-pessimistic Night Haunter had a bone to pick with Vulkan – specifically, all of the ones inside his body. Yet even Konrad Curze could neither kill nor break his brother, and Vulkan soon escaped – it turns out that a hammer-shaped teleportation device also makes for a pretty good hammer. Vulkan warped all the way to Macragge – dying again while claiming Ultramar’s highest skydive record – and eventually managed to get his wits together enough to set course for Terra.
There, in the depths of the Imperial Palace, Vulkan faced down another Primarch who’d survived an inferno…
Relive the epic tale of Vulkan’s escape from the Night Lords’ clutches in Vulkan Lives, keeping pace with the Primarch’s agonising trials while a ragtag band of Isstvan V survivors do everything they can to keep an incredibly important man away from the Word Bearers. Though we’re not sure Vulkan would appreciate the title, given how frequently he dies in this book.
The story continues in Deathfire, where the Salamanders’ First Captain Numeon desperately tries to get his gene-sire’s body back to Nocturne for another resurrection. Yes, for reasons we won’t reveal, Vulkan appears to be staying dead this time… can belief in an old Nocturne legend reverse his fortunes?
If the fine craftsmanship, emerald armour, and hot rod flame decals of the Salamanders are calling to you, check out this step-by-step guide on painting yours for the tabletop.
Alternatively, if you’re somehow still on the fence about the Legion that suits you best, the Horus Heresy website has the perfect quiz to find out. Join us again tomorrow for an evening (or two?) with the Emperor’s sneakiest sons, and get ready for a massive Warhammer: The Horus Heresy pre-order extravaganza this Saturday.
* It matters in-game too – no other Legion is loved by as many allies as the Salamanders.
** Giant hammer? Fighting elves? Slaying dragons? Are we sure this guy’s in the right game?
*** But not before a brief foray into the Webway, which went poorly for everyone not named Vulkan.