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Angron SI
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I was born in battle, my first conscious memories being of my tiny fist punching clean through some xenos metal and pulping a xenos knee.
'what the fuck? what happened? what? just what?'
My mind essentially shutdown as I tried to process the utterly alien experience of awakening not in the bed that I went to sleep in but instead in some body half my size and yet superhuman enough to punch straight through solid metal without issue. As I tried to process a cavalcade of subconscious memories, instinctive reactions, superhuman senses, and a mind that was far beyond anything I could have ever imagined.
As I was lost trying to process, my body kept fighting on its own. One three foot tall human weighing perhaps a hundred pounds against ninety six xenos warriors in combat armor; it was a slaughter. I could not tell you the name of their species and yet I could tell you every weak point of their bodies. I was a fairly casual practitioner of martial arts and yet my body was an absolute master of countless thousands of forms. They had hypersonic guns and yet I seemed to have an instinctive ability to simply not be where they aimed when they fired. They had reflexes and reaction speeds far beyond merely human; and yet to my mind they were like a sloth moving through a pool of molasses.
Still, for all that I was inherently better than those xenos; there were ninety six of them, each a veteran with hundreds - perhaps thousands - of years experience, each equipped with sci-fi power armor and weapons, and each far beyond merely human. I took hits, I bled, and I won; until I swung a hand chop at the last of the xenos neck. Moments before the xenos was decapitated some alien force came crashing into my mind as it tried to eradicate everything that I was from existence.
With that attack came knowledge of its reasons; the xenos had attacked me because they feared what I could become. Visions of my leading armies across the stars as humanities avenging angel of war, vision of me standing over fields of corpses and oceans of blood. I knew that I had been crafted to be humanities the supreme combatant, the champion of battle, the very distillation of combat, warfare, and battle; a god of war. At that last thought some instinct caused me to recoil even as a barely heard voice whispered to me "there are no gods".
All of that came in an instant, on the first waves of the xenos's death strike; it was a bare instant later that I found myself fighting for my mind and soul. My mind turned a wave of furious, all consuming, fire into a seemingly limitless army of enemies and I began to fight. I destroyed those enemies by the tens of thousands and yet I was taking damage, being weakened ever so infinitesimally with everyone. Eventually, with some instinct that I didn't begin to understand, I ripped the last scraps of power from one of those dying on my hands and used it to strengthen myself. I healed; not fully nor completely, but I healed. With that newfound hope I returned to my slaughter, regaining just a bit more health with every strike.
Eventually, after what felt like eons of constant war, I had won. Only to awaken with a crown of metal spikes driven into my brain and locked in a cage.
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I've toyed with ideas for a Primarch SI for a while, and this one seemed more appealing than most. Every Primarch had their role, and Angrons (in this at least) was essentially to be the very totality of combat and war.
SI!Angron spends the next two years growing to full primarch maturity even as he is sent daily into the Arena. Most of those two years are agony as he refuses to allow the Butcher's Nails to enslave him and fights a relentless war for his very mind. The Nail's interfere with his psyker powers and also allow his enslavers to disable his nervous system if/when he attempts to escape or cause problems.
Even so, he refuses to bow to them or obey them. His every trip to the arena ends with them paralyzing his body and dragging him off the field as he refuses to bow to the masters of the arena and he only kills those opponents of his that he decides to kill. Despite all of the issues with him, he is absolutely dominant in the arena and a great draw so the masters continue to "let" him live. At least until his previous owner dies and the owners son inherits; he will bring this dog to heel.
The power of the Butchers Nails is increased and SI!Angron is left with a choice; he can either submit to them (and thus allow them to remap his mind) or he can continue to fight them until even his extremely enhanced nervous system is burned out and he dies.
SI!Angron absolutely refuses to submit; he will die before he ever allows anyone, or anything, else to command his mind. Eventually he does just that; dies. His body is taken to the morgue for autopsy but that is not the end of things.
He is a Primarch. He is not going to allow some no note humans with a few archeotech toys to end him. He Will Not Die!
And so just like SI!Angron has been fighting since his very first memories; first for life, then for his soul, then for his mind, he would come full circle and fight for his life once more. Ultimately, SI!Angron is a Primarch; one of the most supremely powerful psychic entities to have ever existed. His soul forces his body to live again and uses the energies of the Immaterium, for the first time in two years free of the interference of the Nails, to burn every trace of the Nails or their corruption from his body.
Angron awakens on the slab and slaughters his way out of the city, without the control of the Nails he is simply beyond them. In the process he wipes out his enslaver (and his entire family), steals the master control device for that families Butcher Nailed gladiators, and frees them.
Over the next two years Angron conquers his world, and delves more deeply into his psychic powers. Unlike canon!Angron, he has not been corrupted into a blood crazed barbarian living solely for the next battle and instead actually has some strategic vision.
Angron's psychic powers are primarily focused on himself. Think Superman as opposed to the Doctor Strange of Magnus. His fists are essentially force weapons, imbued with psychic power they are able to casually slice through even the very toughest of substances. His skin makes adamantium look weak are piercing it requires overcoming a Primarch level psykers conviction that it is utterly impenetrable.
His telepathy is powerful, on the mortal scale, but not anything truly special save in one respect. He basically has Star Wars battle meditation in that he can reach out to his own forces (and especially easily to his Legion) and link them all into one gestalt hivemind/consciousness under his direction; what one sees - all are aware of, what one knows - all know. They still have their own minds but everyone of them essentially has Angron whispering the perfect move to make into those minds in every second of every battle. They need no Vox, nor even words, to exhibit perfect coordination across an entire star system (at least in the case of his Legions, with mortals his reach is only around continental level).
The XII's Librarians are all soulbound to Angron. On their own, their powers are fairly limited save for an ability to replicate Angron's own Battle Meditation on a squad to company level. What makes them special is that their soulbonds to their Primarch allow Angron to use them as nodes for his own battle meditation. A XII librarian in deep meditation is enough for allow Angron to safely (to the librarian) exercise his ability on the continental scale around the Librarian. With three librarians linked together he can cover most of a star system.
The end result of that gift is that Angron, and the XII Legion, can coordinate a war not merely across one planet or star system but across the entire galaxy. In addition, when Angron has someone under the influence of his Battle Meditation, he acts as sword & shield for their soul; any Warp born attacks or entities that want to interfere with them will face an Angron commanded psychic entity made up of the combined might of all of those under his influence.
Essentially, Angron and the 12th are the embodiment of the soldier and death dealer. They aren't the warriors of Russ bound by honor or driven by personal ferocity. They aren't the Word Bearers of Lorgar driven to prosthelytize and integrate conquered worlds into the Imperiums ideology. They aren't the logistics masters of Ultramar with their penchant for world building. They aren't the terror weapons of the 8th, unleashed to scare others into compliance. They aren't the Lunar Wolves, designed to be the embodiment of the propaganda poster. They aren't the peacekeepers of the Salamanders, shepherding the civilians to safety.
The 12th is simply the most brutally efficiently delivered death to the enemies of man. Their honor is in the mission, not the means used to complete it. Their lives are spent either training for battle or in battle.
Of course, Angron (and the rest) are Primarchs. Just because they are all exemplars of specific areas doesn't change the fact that everyone of them is also near deifically skilled in any (and every) field that they try their hands at.
