Grasar the Forgelord

Grasar is a former Iron Hands techmarine, old enough to remember Ferrus Manus's death on the killing grounds of Isstvan. Having abandoned his brothers and his faith, he has set out amongst the galaxy to complete his great work.

Beginning
Grasar was at first only a Techmarine. A gifted one, yes, but a humble one. His days were filled with the scent of smoke and oil, and the pride of a job well done. All he wanted to do was make sure his brothers were safe as they fought against the xenos of the galaxy.

Soon however, he took it a step too far. Forbidden reasearch was unearthed in his quaters, research into the warp, xenos technology and biology, as well as tech-heresy of the highest order. He was violently censured for these discoveries, even as he begged for his brothers and his Primarch to understand how much they were missing.

He was stripped of his Techmarine title and duties, his body was dumped broken and battered at the Apothecarium, and he was told there were two paths to redemtion. He chose eternal duty in a suit of the highly experimental and dangerous Gorgon Terminator Armor, the only remembrance of his old life permitted to him was his Power Axe, and he coveted it with all his machine heart.

The Heresy and its effects
Grasar was never an especially gifted soldier, but he followed every order to the letter, and refused to back down in the face of overwhelming odds. But he never loved his brothers again. He gave no effort to save them, only to vent his repressed fury and rage at their enemies. When his chapter became embroiled in the Heresy, he fought all the harder, for the once-comrades he brutalized were all the closer to the true target of his ire.

When Ferrus Manus was killed, Grasar was one of many decrying him as a fool blinded, though not by emotion as others argued. He kept the opinion to himself, having learned hard the lesson of transparency in his legion, but he believed that the loyalists would have won the conflict had they not thrown away his research like so much trash.

He survived the Heresy through brute force and calculated cunning, many times living where his brothers failed only through the forbidden practice of improving upon his own armor. When the time came for the Iron Hands to submit to the Codex Astartes, Grasar was assigned to the Calix Successor chapter, and gladly tore the Iron Hands sigil from his armor.

Fall to Chaos
The Calix Chapter fought for many years with Grasar at their side, his life as a techmarine half-returned to him, his brothers relying on him and his acolytes to repair and retrofit their machines. When their chapter master took them to places unsanctioned, and when they dove headfirst into true Heresy, Grasar was glad. He followed his chapter master and his brothers into the darkness, and yet, found himself disappointed once again.

His brothers were as blind as his old masters had been, following only one god, believing they could overcome all obstacles through brute aggression, and Grasar was disgusted at what they had become. Just like the traitors that they had fought long ago. Blind, arrogant fools full of weakness.

The last straw was when their Lord, once Chapter Master, bet all of them on a single duel. It was if he was back to being nothing but trash, a broken sack of meat bartered and made choices for without his input. It was too much for even Grasars metal form to bear. He abandoned all he had sworn, spitting on his oaths with more fervor than he had felt in anything before, breaking his own brothers over his knee as they tried to stop him. They were nothing to him now, only remmants of the blind fool he had been. Now he would be something great.

He left everything he had ever known, setting out into the stars, finally unfettered by others. Much time had been wasted, but now his work could truly begin.

Now
Grasar operates out of the Devourer, a ship he has retrofitted to better suit his own goals, at the head of legions of slaves, Daemon Engines, and Skitarri warriors.

At his side is his fellow Tech-Priest, Mariannax Vatali, with whom he schemes and plans in the twisted bowels of the ship.

He is driven, calculating, and offers no trust to anyone. He seeks progress above all else, and will stop at nothing to complete his work, thinking nothing of spending allies lives like coin and leaving others for dead if they are not worth the effort to pick up. Before he is finished, the galaxy will burn like never before.