Marcus Kenshaw

Imperial Fists - Devastator Marine


Personal Demeanor: Scornful
Chapter Demeanor: Sons of Dorn
Power Armour History: Gauntlets of Xirion, Bring Death from Afar
Past: Forlorn Hope

Marcus wears ‘Heresy’ MK5 Armor, coloured in the standard bright yellow of the Imperial Fists. He is attentive to his armor in the most basic sense, it still carries dents, scratches and worn paint from his many battles.


Fast, unforgiving and tiny…
That was how Marcus was known in the under-hive slum gangs of Humoris Prime.

There is one rule in gang warfare, Survive.

Marcus was recruited early into the gang lifestyle, his mother died during his premature childbirth and his father was too busy chasing his next stim high to take care of his little boy. But Marcus soon learnt that the under-hive is no playground.
Everyday the same, fighting one another all for control of the tiny scrap of dank, filthy and poisoned hive they called home.
Until the giants in yellow and gold came to town.

The Imperial Fists would often lend their services to cleaning out the undesirables from the under-hives of nearby planets, after all it was one of the main sources of new recruits.

Gang members deemed unworthy would be put to death on the spot, a quick thrust of combat blade, a single bolt round to the head.
The giants were relentless and unforgiving.

During a failed guerrilla attack on the small squad of giants, an Imperial Fist grabbed Marcus around the neck and while quite content to simply squeeze his massive gauntlet and quickly end the runts life Marcus looked into the eyes of the un-helmeted warrior and spat into his face.

“This one’s got spirit!” he said aloud to his comrades.

Marcus didn’t know if the giant took pity on him or if he was having a cruel joke at his expense, but Marcus’s life was spared that day… over the coming months, we wished they had killed him.

His nerves felt like they were on fire, each one ablaze with unparalleled agony.
The pain glove was designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain while still keeping the occupant conscious.
Marcus has outlasted all of the other potential recruits and yet a warrior would collect him daily from his cell and silently strap him in the device. This lasted for months, until another warrior suddenly ordered the deactivation of the pain glove. With huge armored hand he pulled back Marcus’s matted hair to look him in the face “What do you have to say for yourself now little one?” with grin he once again spat into the face of the warrior. “This one will become a fine Son of Dorn” stated the warrior, “begin his transformation at once”.

If only those gangers could see him now…

Marcus Kenshaw

Praise to the Emperor! Somniomancer Westie