Company of Misery: Chaos Space Marine Warband Dossier
Warband Name: Company of Misery
Affiliation: Chaos Space Marines
First Recorded Appearance: The Maddean IV Campaign
Allegiance to Chaos God(s): Unknown
Estimated Strength: Unknown
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Visual Profile & Identity
Armor Colors:
The Company of Misery dons crimson-red power armor, edged in deep black. The most striking feature is the stylized black flame motif that licks across portions of their armor, an ominous mark symbolizing pain, ruin, and eternal damnation.
Their wargear is adorned with profane runes and unholy relics, each piece etched with the sigils of madness. While it is evident that they are deeply devoted to the forces of the Warp, their true patron—if any—is a mystery. They may serve Chaos Undivided, or perhaps they are aligned with a more esoteric, personal creed of agony.
Insignia:
Their emblem depicts a red upward-pointing arrow wreathed in a black circle of flame, set upon a blood-red background. The symbol's meaning remains debated among Imperial scholars—some interpret it as an icon of eternal suffering, others see it as a rejection of salvation, a mockery of hope.
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Brief History & Notable Commanders
Captain Akror (Deceased)
A brutal and infamous war-leader within the Company of Misery, Akror commanded the warband during the bloody assault on the Imperial world of Mnemosyne. The Planetary Defense Forces were swiftly overrun, and the city of Arkio witnessed wholesale genocide. Civilians were butchered in the shadow of its great cathedral, their deaths feeding some dark ritual of suffering.
Akror led a savage hunt for an Imperial scribe rumored to possess access to the Great Librarium of Mnemosyne. However, their path was interrupted by a spectral force—the Legion of the Damned. The ghostly Space Marines emerged from fire and shadow, their bolters speaking death. A fierce, close-quarters battle followed. Akror and most of his warband perished, consumed in the purifying wrath of these mysterious revenants.
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Known Warship
Herald of Anguish
Once a proud Gladius-class frigate of the Imperium known as Grave Sentinel, the ship fell into the hands of Chaos during a Warp ambush decades ago. Reborn as Herald of Anguish, it now sails the Immaterium like a cursed phantom, its hull covered in flayed metal and blood-scripted oaths.
The vessel broadcasts a baleful, maddening signal that disrupts auspex arrays and sows unease, even among allied Chaos warbands. Rumors persist of trapped souls screaming in its engine rooms, and of a Warp presence bound to the ship's machine spirit—one that hungers for despair.
Brief History of the Warband: Company of Misery
The true origins of the Company of Misery are shrouded in the mists of time and madness. Some apocryphal records from the Scholastica Historica hint at their descent from one of the original Legions of the Great Crusade, possibly fractured and lost during or after the Horus Heresy. However, all such accounts are contradictory at best, deliberately obfuscated or erased by the Ordo Hereticus.
By the time they re-emerged in Imperial records, the Company of Misery had become twisted heralds of suffering—fanatical warlords who brought despair wherever their red-armored forms tread. They appear to worship not a single Chaos God, but suffering itself, embodying the doctrine of Chaos Undivided with a nihilistic edge. Their rituals are brutal and their iconography is saturated with esoteric sigils and flames that defy rational explanation. Wherever they go, torment follows—both physical and spiritual.
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Notable Campaigns
The Maddean IV Campaign (Date Unknown – M37)
The first known sighting of the Company of Misery after their fall to Chaos was recorded during the brutal engagements on Maddean IV. The warband descended upon the world with terrifying swiftness, overwhelming planetary defenses with a savagery that defied conventional tactics. Local records from this time are fragmented, censored, or completely purged. Surviving fragments describe the appearance of blood-red Power Armor marked with black flames, and symbols that bled Warp energy into realspace.
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The Death of the Witching Moon (013.M41)
One of the most nightmarish events in the history of the Agathon Sector. The Mechanicus Forge Moon of Keziah—crucial to the Adeptus Mechanicus—was consumed by an unnatural eclipse known as the Witching Moon. On that cursed night, the population of the moon descended into madness: engineers turned on one another, flesh was offered in unspeakable rituals, and forbidden Warp energies blanketed the surface.
At the heart of the chaos were two forces—The Tenebrae, and the Company of Misery—ruling as dark kings amidst the bloodshed. The black flame of the Witching Moon spread reality-warping madness across the system, resisting all Imperial retaliation. The first counter-assaults by the Astra Militarum, elements of Battlefleet Ultima, and even the Inquisition were shattered by Warp-fueled horrors and relentless heretical defenders.
Only the arrival of the Charnel Guard Chapter—escorted by the sanctified warriors of the Adepta Sororitas' Ordo Black Sepulchre, bearing the sacred Book of Counted Tears—managed to halt the escalation. Their combined faith and firepower pierced the darkness, allowing reinforcements from the Iron Hands, Storm Lords, Angels Porphyr, and the Adeptus Mechanicus to launch a full-scale planetary cleansing.
The battle was brutal: tank warfare across metallic gorges, aerial dogfights above industrial chasms, and deadly Zone Mortalis boarding actions beneath the surface. The Traitor Marines inflicted horrific losses before finally retreating into the Warp's deeper shadows. In the aftermath, Keziah was declared unsalvageable—purged of all life and turned over to the Cult Mechanicus for techno-exorcism and eventual reclamation.
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The Invasion of Mnemosyne (Date Unknown – M41)
A warband of fifty Chaos Space Marines from the Company of Misery launched a surprise invasion of the Imperial world Mnemosyne. The planet's defense forces were swiftly overrun, unable to withstand the warband's ferocity. The Company's leader, Captain Akror, led his warriors into the capital city of Arkio, slaughtering civilians in the sacred Cathedral and hunting down scribes who held keys to the Great Librarium of Mnemosyne.
Just as the warband seemed poised to shatter the heart of the planet's knowledge and culture, a spectral force arrived—mysterious Space Marines from the Legion of the Damned. The resulting battle was fierce and otherworldly. Though they fought with apocalyptic zeal, Akror and his warband were ultimately slain in the ruins, their legacy swallowed by fire and shadow.



The Rise of the Company of Misery
After reading every grim record of that warband, Kenthelion summoned them through the War Points System. In a ripple of bluish-purple light, swirling like a tame warp-web, Captain Akror appeared first—accompanied by a thousand Chaos Space Marines of the Company of Misery, standing silent in solemn stillness.
Their armor—blood-red with black accents and faintly glowing dark flames—gleamed dully under the artificial light of the throne chamber. Yet the moment Akror's gaze met Kenthelion, seated regally upon his throne in golden armor that blazed like the Emperor of Mankind himself, he dropped to one knee.
> "Emperor… I will atone for my sins. Please… forgive us, my Emperor."
One by one, the entire Company of Misery followed their captain. A thousand warriors—once nightmares of the Imperium—now knelt in unison, power swords lowered to the floor, helms bowed in remorse.
Kenthelion rose from his throne, his steps calm yet commanding. He descended the platform, approaching Akror, and extended a hand to lift the once-feared man to his feet.
> "Akror… rise. You no longer need to carry the burden of guilt. I forgive you all."
His voice was gentle, resonating with the power of Aetherion—an energy born from the union of the Force and high-level psionics. It wasn't loud, nor was it whispered, yet it echoed through the soul of anyone who heard it. Each word carried peace. Each breath, compassion.
> "The chaos within you… I have stilled it. You are forgiven."
Kenthelion smiled softly. He knew—deeply, undeniably—that this warband had never been true traitors. They weren't born rebels. They were simply soldiers—exhausted, discarded by the Imperium after being sent on endless campaigns with no hope of return. They chose rebellion not out of hatred… but abandonment.
But this time, everything would be different.
They would return to the battlefield.
As angels of death for the Emperor.
As the vanguard of the Imperium Caelestis—a star-forged empire not built on tyranny, but on hope.
"Hail, Emperor!"
Their voices thundered in unison, cutting through the air like lightning.
Kenthelion raised his hand calmly.
"Stand, all of you."
He drew his sword—the Emperor's Sword—its blade shimmering with the power of Aetherion and unwavering conviction. Slowly, he pressed the edge to Akror's shoulder.
"Akror. I forgive all your sins, and in return... you will join the Speyer Expeditionary Fleet."
Deep down, Kenthelion knew this decision carried risks. But he also understood: men like Akror did not belong to a StarCraft general. They were too wild, too bloodthirsty, too... human. They belonged with the brutal commanders of Warhammer. If it were under Kylo Ren's command, Kenthelion would entrust them with a confident smile—because chaos needed a handler who understood broken souls.
"Understood, Emperor," Akror replied firmly, a new aura lighting his eyes—not madness, but a hope long lost.
Kenthelion glanced around, sweeping his gaze over the sea of red-armored warriors. A faint smile touched his lips.
"One thousand Space Marines... one thousand full forces."
He felt the expeditionary army needed to grow stronger. Now was the perfect moment to strike the Tuskborn Federation. With their arrival, the fleet's strength would undoubtedly rise to an entirely new level.
"You will no longer fight as the Company of Misery," Kenthelion declared firmly. "From this moment on, you fight as the Desolate Brotherhood."
"Thank you, Emperor," the Chaos Space Marines answered with respect.
The Chaos Marines then departed aboard their warships, joining the waiting Speyer Armada.
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You already know how hard it is to cultivate a Space Marine. The process of creating an Astartes is long, brutal, and highly selective. The time required to produce a fully-fledged Space Marine depends on the era, technology, and chapter conditions, but on average it takes between five to ten years—sometimes even longer.
Here is a general outline of the process:
1. Recruitment (Ages 10–14)
Candidates are chosen from harsh, brutal worlds. Only youths with exceptional genetics and extreme physical conditions are selected.
2. Astartes Organ Implantation (19 total)
Implants are introduced gradually over many years. These organs include the secondary heart, black carapace, biscopea, omophagea, and others. Each implant must integrate with the body and be activated through training, rituals, or chemical processes.
3. Physical & Mental Training (Years)
Recruits undergo brutal training, learning combat skills, indoctrination, and advanced tactics and language. They are introduced to the chapter's doctrine and fanaticism.
4. Brainwashing and Indoctrination
They lose almost all traces of humanity and past identity. Their minds are strengthened to endure trauma and total obedience.
5. Hypno-indoctrination and Chem-training
Mental programming enforces loyalty and discipline, alongside consistent administration of drugs and growth hormones.
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How Long Does This Take?
Minimum: 5–6 years for chapters with high resources and advanced technology, like the Ultramarines.
Average: 8–10 years for traditional chapters with rigorous selection.
Longer: Up to 15 years or more if facilities are limited or spiritual rituals are added (such as with the Black Templars or Dark Angels).
> Note: Primaris Marines are created through more advanced biological and genetic processes by Belisarius Cawl, with refinements that have taken over 10,000 years in their case.
Kenthelion sighed deeply, his mind swirling. Damn it, how many times have I pretended to be the Emperor of Mankind, forgiving Chaos Space Marines? But for the sake of a better future, I must treat them with dignity—though certainly not like the original Emperor. This is to ensure they will never betray again.
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Kenthelion contacted the Supreme Commander of the space expedition in the Tuskborn Federation sector—Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed.
"How is the battle against the Tuskborn Federation progressing?" Kenthelion asked, his voice cold but focused.
"Your Majesty, Emperor," Creed replied firmly, "our fleet has captured many planets within their territory. We've also breached their communication systems. From the intercepted transmissions, the Tuskborn Federation is attempting to call for aid from other civilizations, but... none have responded."
Hearing the report, Kenthelion rose from his throne, clad in gleaming golden armor and wielding the Emperor's sword, then walked to the command table. He fixed his gaze on the star map projected above its surface.
The expeditionary fleet of the Imperium Caelestis had taken control of most of the GloryPork, Urg'nok, and Solarhelm regions. All major star systems in those sectors now flew the golden banner of humanity.
The Imperium's borders now met several alien civilizations. But Kenthelion didn't care about them— they were not his current target. His focus was clear: the Tuskborn Federation.
With sharp eyes, Kenthelion stared at the fleet hologram, then locked his gaze onto Creed.
"Neutralize the alien fleet. Completely erase their ability to wage war across the stars," he commanded calmly, each word carrying the weight of death.
"Understood, Your Majesty," Creed said, bowing respectfully before the holographic projection disappeared.
Kenthelion then began issuing direct orders to every military division. He understood that when an interstellar civilization loses its fleet, it's like a human losing its backbone. But the micro-level strategies were the commanders' responsibility—he would not interfere.
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The Rise of Imperium Caelestis
To most alien races, Imperium Caelestis was merely a shadow— remnants of an old human civilization thought destroyed and vanished. Many assumed they were just exiled colonies from the fall of Terra.
But reality told a different story.
In a short span of time, the Imperium rose again. From the ruins and exile, humanity forged a new empire far more dangerous than anyone had imagined. Its command structure was centralized, its technology eclectic and efficient, and its drive for expansion nearly fanatical.
Most interstellar civilizations ignored the warning signs.
The universe was too vast. Internal affairs took precedence. The human Emperor was too distant. Their fleet unseen. And the name Kenthelion echoed only faintly in the political whispers of the galaxy.
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The Expanse Covenant Conference Hall
For the first time in decades, thousands of delegates from the civilizations of the Expanse Covenant gathered once more. Not out of a longing for diplomacy, but out of fear. The new human empire—the Imperium Caelestis—had risen too close to their territory.
And everyone knew: once the Imperium Caelestis became aware of their existence... destruction was only a matter of time.
The Expanse Covenant, in many ways, resembled the 21st-century United Nations. They loved to discuss good intentions together, blame each other for the bad, and almost never reached any meaningful decisions. Ironically, this alliance was not even founded by the inner-ring civilizations—the most advanced and influential in the galaxy. The inner-ring civilizations barely communicated with the middle or outer rings. They didn't even consider those civilizations their equals.
In the center of the massive auditorium, Supreme Seer Izhari Vaelor, the alliance's highest leader, stood clad in silver robes, his crystal blue eyes scanning thousands of envoys whispering anxiously among themselves.
"We are all here today," he said, his voice amplified by a resonator, "to discuss the most urgent matter we face together: humanity. Shall we legally recognize their political system under interstellar law… or shall we mobilize a joint fleet to stop their uncontrollable expansion into the outer rings?"
Silence.
Then a raspy voice exploded from the northern seats. A rooster-headed alien—member of the Korv'haal species—stood and shouted angrily:
"Stop their armed actions! Humans are slaves! And they will always be slaves!"
His outburst was met with another shout from the opposite side. A goose-headed alien from the Ornithari species stood, trembling with emotion.
"We are a civilized race! We have ethics! We are not barbarians like humans! We will never accept them as equals!"
Chaos broke loose. The once quiet conference hall turned into a battlefield of heated debate. Thousands of delegates shouted, pointed fingers, nearly threw chairs. Some pushed for military intervention, others insisted on avoiding provocation of the human empire, now known for its aggression and efficiency.
After a full day of fruitless arguments, hundreds of delegates left the conference hall, their faces filled with frustration and disappointment.
A second meeting was scheduled… but it was almost certain only a fraction would attend.
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Elsewhere — Imperium Caelestis Expedition Fleet
Meanwhile, far from the diplomatic table in the outer sectors, reality spoke with a clearer voice: battle alarms.
> "Attention! Multiple foreign warships detected ahead! All starfighter personnel prepare for combat! I repeat, all starfighter personnel prepare for combat!"
Alarms blared throughout the human fleet's capital ships. Red lights flashed. Elite soldiers sprinted toward hangars, pilots donned their helmets, and massive engines roared to life.
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Next chapter after I finish eating, thank you all 🥰