Lukio Dras

Cold and calculating, with a heart as ice chilled as the blood of that figurative hydra emblazoned upon the pauldron of Alpharius' hidden children. An enigma to even the followers of Chaos as much as the Imperium, a defining trait of the Alpha Legion -- capricious among compare for the sake of their contradictory, unknown means. A living, breathing myth to the Emperor's thralls, whose floundering attempts to uncover the Legion's activites only deciphered when the last sacred cogitator has been wiped of it's precious data or when the foulest of sacrelige has spread over an Imperial world. The sons of the 20th Primarch are unlike any of the fallen Astartes that pledge themselves to the Dark Pantheon; Lukio Dras is one such legionnare. A begotten child of a forgotten world, the name of which had been lost to him since the days of the Horus Heresy. For ten thousand years, Lukio has slaved over the will of the Legion, an uncomprimising pawn for a fragmented, disgraced shadow of a legion that called upon the will of the Dark Gods for it's own paradoxial objectives...

...For ten thousand years, Lukio never questioned the legitimacy of his Legion's goals -- it was not the way of his brethren, themselves distant and stonefaced beyond compare even before their fall from grace...

...Those years have passed as days within the decrepit reaches of dead space, where only nightmares borne from the warp reside. And with each of those flickering 'days' has Lukio endlessly toiled as a hidden thrall of the Legion. Painted in the colours of the Deathwatch, he would lead an Astartes kill team to their ironic deaths in the search of a Xenos artefact, only to find themselves at the mercy of the Hydra. Under the shade of a Black Templar initiate, he would perhaps goad infighting between Imperial sects by framing the Sons of Dorn for treachary -- the murder of an inquisitor upon the revving end of a chainsword. And of course, masquerading as a Khornate madman, he would aid the World Eaters in their quest of appeasement through bloodshed before finally hoarding the terrible prize for himself; leaving the frenzied souls of his former companions as morsels for the Blood God. Such are the tactics of the Alpha Legion, whose greatest and only ally is deception -- the Dark Pantheon are merely tools for the Legion to exploit, as are their mad servants. Only when the key to victory has been fit and wrenched with the lock, or when the cover of the Legion has been blown does Lukio truly adorn the spoilt blue colour of his brethren.

Lukio is a parasite to his enemies -- invisible to the naked eye, though his venom deadly enough to incur an inevitable death. His favoured place upon the battle line is the one that is behind his foes. But now it is the 42nd millenia; an eerily familiar voice moans deep into Lukio's subconscience, interdimsionally torn through the fabric of space under the mercy of the Great Rift. With the Imperium so close to fragmentation, the resolve of it's denizens has been somehow bolstered by the return of the Primarchs and the grand display of the new 'Primaris' brood. Brought to sudden lucidity by the machinations of the whispering spirit, Lukio has for the first time been brought to question the motives of his Legion. His newfound mission conflicting with that of the Hydra's factions, he alone is tasked with the quest to find the last refuge of the Primarch...

...The one called Omegon.