Planet: HaradCapital City: Gol’gathaLocation: Nestled on the edge of the Eye of Terror Harad, a planet lost to the Ruinous Powers on a date long forgotten, lashed by the energies of the warp and tortured day in, day out by it’s twisted inhabitants. Though the planet was covered in vast, beautiful planes, the city of Gol’gatha was nestled in a barren warp-touched wasteland. Gol’gatha was undoubtedly conquered by the chaotic forces of the Dark Gods, cultists, heretics and all manner of worshippers of Chaos go about their twisted business in the streets, gathered underneath a banner of absolute worship hoisted by a fat Slaaneshi Governor whom reigned in the subservient nobles and courts with promises of Slaanesh’s pleasures. In the shadows of the fat governor’s courtroom, a towering figure stood covered in a pale cloak which concealed his powered armor from the prying eyes of the cult leaders around him, he watched on as the aforementioned cultists carried out an incredibly dangerous ritual in the name of the Dark Gods. Argus rested his hands on the pommel of his power sword that stood from the ground, a weapon he had held onto since his days of the Crusades before the Horus Heresy. The blade had seen a large amount of combat, taken the lives of humans and xenos alike, but none today would guess its blade had lashed away at anothers flesh. The sword had been a reliable companion to this warrior, and as such its continued servitude to him was greatly appreciated. The power field lay dormant at the moment, awaiting the moment that Argus would use the weapon in combat. The pale cloak draped over his armour, the Mark IV Maximus variant with a short plume on the back of his helmet. The armour was ancient and showed his original loyalties prior to becoming a wandering vagrant in the servitude of Chaos. Its faintly grey armour with a green tint, along with the symbol of an eye embedded on its shoulderpad that was beneath the cloak would show he was apart of the Luna Wolves, which became the Sons of Horus after his primarch achieved the title of ‘Warmaster’. He still remembered those days, the days of blind loyalty towards the Emperor of Mankind. He still remembered the days of butchering foes in the name of the Imperium. He still remembered realising his loyalty was never to the Emperor, but to his son Horus instead. He remembered swearing his loyalty to the Warmaster, and rebelling against the Imperium. He remembered the combat on the planets of Istvaan, killing his own brothers that still sided with the Emperor be they of his legion or of others. He remembered ‘Holy’ Terra, sieging the Palace of the False Emperor. He remembered the death of his primarch, the failure of his legion. Now he was among the other shadows of the fallen legion, though he knew his legion was and still is one of the greatest. He did not colour his armour black after Horus’ death, or accept Abaddon as his leader. No, for Horus may have died, but he still is Argus’ father and those who claim to be of Luna Wolf, Sons of Horus or of Black Legion shall agree with him on that. There was no point in his eyes of mourning his death, only to progress forward and to live and die for Chaos as they had all agreed on during that great heresy.